


The Kindness of Strangers

by UnicornCooky



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: AU, BoyxBoy, F/M, Fantasy, Fluffy, Gay, Gen, M/M, No Smut, Other, Platonic Peterick for the most part, patrick lives in the woods, platonic boyxboy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 23:03:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 28,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9293519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnicornCooky/pseuds/UnicornCooky
Summary: Hi there. My name's Patrick, and I'm just your average, ginger, chubby, glasses-wearing guy.





	1. Prologue

There are some stories about mythical elves who ride on dragons and slay evil creatures to save princesses — or, other things, for that matter, — from the clutches of someone who is evil for no particular reason. 

There are some, honestly most, stories that are about a girl who falls in love with a boy from her school, or an even more common story, a boy who is too feminine for his own good and falls in love with another boy who is presumably straight. In either of these scenarios the main character and their love interest usually end up together and they all live happily ever after. 

There are some about murders that have happened unexpectedly and have an even more "unexpected" ending. Except for the fact that with most of them we all expect for it to be unexpected. 

I'm here to tell you one of those stories. One of those exciting, thrilling, love-and-shock filled stories that bring either great love or extreme hatred to most readers. The stories that lure people in just by the title or the description on the back of the book. 

I'm here to tell you one of those stories. Well, except, it's really not one of those stories. 

Hi there. My name's Patrick, and I'm just your average ginger, chubby, glasses-wearing guy. 

I live in a little village deep in the woods of somewhere in Wisconsin. I never could pinpoint exactly where; the only time one of us ever left was that one time our priest, Father Samuel, went to speak at their local church, as per request of the city counsel. 

Our village is a kind one; we all help eachother out, and only take when needed. There is no fighting. There is no stealing. There is no debt, and there is no hate. We all share what we have, and while we are all assigned different homes, none of us really stick to our own. We only go inside at sunset, and most of the time we all just scamper into the house that is closest to where we are right then. 

If you need something, you ask. Stockpiling goods for yourself is forbidden and can get you banished. I know because Chandler's father was sent away for it once. 

The only things I really knew about my location were the village name, and our state (and I only got that last information when I asked our 'governor' about how the village was formed). Speaking of, I'm sure you'd like to know how. 

Back in the sixties, a goodhearted man, named James Galligil, lived in the state of Wisconsin with his wife and three children. He began to realize how greedy and materialistic the world was becoming; thus, decided to build his own house from scratch deep in the woods. He chose a good place, one with a nice amount of trees, wildlife, and a small lake, and built a small cabin using only the tools he owned prior; a hacksaw, a pickaxe, and a shovel. 

Pretty soon others joined in, and appointed James as their unofficial governer, and naming the small village 'Tamsworth' after a night of drinking some wine that one of the modern-age settlers brought with the things from his home he thought would be useful. 

Fast forward a few years and you'll reach the nineties, which was apparently a bountiful decade for our village. 

I was told that we got a lot of visitors — some vacationers, some coming to see the town that was so fabled to exist beyond the thick mass of trees. My grandmother told me that on the day of my birth, in 1997, a woman and her small child came to see the place where we lived. Someone else told me that they were a big deal, that the parent was in some very successful music groups, and that we should be proud of that day, but I never really thought much of it considering I never even knew their names.

I was born September 24th, 1997. 

My mother was named Isabel Cara, by my grandfather. She was forty when she gave birth to me, and if she were to be here today, she would be fifty-nine. She died when she was off scavenging for food and a rock fell on her leg, no one could find a way to get it off and she starved. Since then I've been taken care of by my grandmother and grandfather, James and Patricia. 

They've taken care of me most of my life, but my grandfather is getting very old, and we all know that there isn't much time left for him. Our medic said so himself, grandfather is just reaching his goodbye because of how long his aging body has been on this earth. Women aren't allowed to take authority in our village, and since my grandmother gave birth to all girls, and I was the oldest out of their grandchildren, I was soon to take the role as governer of Tamsworth, Wisconsin. 

I've never seen the outside world. I've never come close to touching these terrible things that my neighbors tell me are demon-possessed, materialistic items called electronics. Soon I am going to be the governer of a village with a population of thirty-six.

But I'm just your average guy. 

At least I think I am.


	2. Chapter One

Despite all the 'exciting' adventures I must have had as a kid, I'd like to start at a specific point in my timeline. 

It was sometime in the middle of September. I believe it was around nighttime, but it could have been earlier. The skies were dark and it was hard to tell.

It was raining, pouring actually. The skies were dark and I was only outside because I had to gather everyone's clothes from the line before the tarp that was fixed above it gave in. There were quite a lot considering how many people lived there. The population wasn't exactly 'constantly' growing, but for our small place, a baby every couple years could be considered pretty constant. 

I was trying my hardest to be rather alert due to the loud rain beating against the ground, as it sounded as if it was right in my ear. I was hoping my best not to get mauled by some animal (that, even when spending nineteen years in the woods, I still feared). It was thundering and I could already feel the rain dripping through the tarp and onto my glasses. 

I let out a scream of desperation as I gripped the basket of clothes tightly, "It's coming down!" My neighbor, James, ran out of his house, and grabbed up one of the other baskets, then soon came out his wife, who did the same with the last. We all made a break for it as the large tarp fell down onto the wooden deck, and took shelter under one of the only thick trees that was left after the village was founded. 

"Thank you so much." I panted, pushing up my glasses like a headband onto my wet hair so that I could see at least a bit. "Its no problem, Patrick. You know we don't mind helping with your chores." Martha said, smiling widely. "We'll just get Marcela out here to help you with that basket too, it looks pretty heavy." I nodded towards them and smiled as another thanks, and they walked away and into the 'main hub' of our village. That's where everyone normally gathered for clothes sorting, meetings, chore assignment, and meals. Sometimes, if it was by request of my grandfather, we would eat with only our families. 

As I waited for Marcela to come out, I slid down the tree, and sat on the wet ground. I'd have already brought them in and even refused the offer if I hadn't wanted to talk to her that day. After all, she was my only real 'friend' within the population of sixty. We hung out and listened to my grandfather's records and drew and tried to teach each other how to play his old, wood-rotted guitar, despite neither of us knowing how in the first place. 

It was taking a little longer than I'd expected, and upon that thought I realized that it was probably because Marcela wasn't really one for getting soaked in rain, so I decided to just take the clothes inside. They were still mostly dry because the leaves on the tree I was under were so thick; the only wetness were from the premature collecting and the run from the tarp over to the tree. 

Just as I'd risen from my place on the ground, and the thunder hadn't hit for a while, I heard a noise that surely didn't sound like thunder at all. It was more like a rustling of leaves, and then after that there was a sound of heavy breathing that was going from faint to louder and louder as if it was growing nearer. I didn't look up and I have no idea why, but soon the growing in volume stopped and it was stuck at one loudness. 

When I finally did look up, I saw what looked to be like a man, with black hair and a sock-cap over it, panting heavily and doubled over in the rain. I was shocked for the longest time, as no one new had moved to our village for decades, let alone would someone want to move to it in the middle of monsoon season. 

It took him a while before he stood up straight, and noticed the pretty large area that consisted of thirty houses; again, our population was sixty, but most of that was because of the large families that had moved here and kept growing. If you narrowed it down to just families instead of people, there really wouldn't be that many. 

I could see his eyes go wide as I was only a couple yards away from him, and he seemed to do a double take at the realization that there were houses and gardens and a fishing hole and the group-run 'servicing' building that held our different types of medics. He turned a little, and soon his eyes landed on mine, and we stared at each other for the longest time, with him standing in the pouring rain and me sitting under a tree while hugging a clothesbasket.

It seemed like forever before he spoke. 

"What the hell is this place?" He yelled from our distance and I just kind of shrugged. He still seemed so in shock, and he was visibly shaking from the cold. I decided now would be the time to use the knowledge and compassion that my parents and grandparents had tought me. I waved him over in my direction, and he seemed to forget about thinking, as he took the offer and ran underneath the large pine tree and sat down next to me. 

I could hear his teeth chattering and his clothes clung to his shaking body, his slightly dark skin seeming paler around his face because of a mixture between the cold and his darker hair color. "What are you doing out? Its monsoon season! Its raining cats and dogs!" I exclaimed. He looked even more surprised when I treated him as if I knew him well. 

"I-I, uh, I was v-visiting my f-friend, Andy, a-and just as I was g-going to board th-the plane b-back my dad c-called and t-told me I can't l-live with him a-anymore, and I c-can't stay with Andy anym-more because h-his parents c-came back from their bus-siness trip." He stammered out, and he had a little glint in his big eyes that I had seen before. Almost like the time my grandfather killed a wolf that had been killing all our cows, and we found her den and her babies; the poor things looked so in pain, as if they knew what happened. 

I frowned. "Well, that wasn't very nice of your father, was it?" I said. He shrugged and took off the gray sock-hat that he had been reading the whole time, and ran his fingers through his stringy hair. I looked between him and my house, quickly, and then stood up. "Come on," I said, and offered my hand to him, "You need to get dry." The man hesitantly took my hand and used it as leverage to pull himself up, and once he was standing I pulled the small piece of tarp I kept in my pocket, and placed it over the clothesbasket before I picked it up. 

He followed behind me quietly and the sound of the rain beating against the ground and tin rooves sounded soothing with the absence of other voices. 

It wasn't long until we were close to my house. "Uh– Pete. I'm– I'm Pete..." He said, and it sounded more like a whisper, and I couldn't tell if he was really whispering or if it just sounded so quiet because of the rain. I smiled and opened the door with my foot. "My name's Patrick." He still shivered immensely when I lead him into the house, and he stood awkwardly in the doorway on the welcome mat. We both looked like water-drenched sewer rats, and my grandmother came rushing in when she heard the door close. 

"Patrick! You're back! Mrs. Hewey told me to tell you that she's sorry, she was going to get Marcela to come help you bring in the rest but she just wouldn't do it and the rain was far too heavy to go back out in—" She had been rambling, but was quickly cut off when she noticed the smaller-framed man standing behind me. "Patrick, who's this?" Her smile seemed to brighten slightly and I knew she was subconsciously trying to impress him like she normally did with people. 

"Grandmother, this is Pete. His father said he can't live with him so he ended up here. He's soaking wet and so I'm going to let him borrow some of my clean clothes and have a bath." I told her, and placed the clothesbasket I was holding down on the floor. "Alright, honey, I'll bring the basket to the village hall and help out with the sorting, you two be....safe." 

She seemed kind of suspicious of Pete, probably because he was dressed differently than any way even I had seen people dress before. I smiled and paid her my thanks, before grabbing Pete's hand and pulled him the short way to the sleep quarters. My bed was across the room from my grandfather's, and my eyes softened a little when I didn't see him laying there. Dr. Fraidon said that it would be best for him to stay in the hospital with him, that way he could up and bring him anything if he needed it. 

"You stay there, okay?" I said, patting Pete's shoulder and turning around before he got the chance to answer. I opened the wooden chest that Marcela and I built when we were little, and pulled out a button-up sweater and a pair of jeans that had belonged to many generations before me. I placed them on my bed and grabbed an extra belt to go with them, then turned back to Pete. 

"Its just a sweater and some jeans for now, they'll probably be really big for you but it should work." I told him, and flashed him a warm smile. He smiled back, and it seems as if he couldn't help it. "Thank you..." He whispered, and I only smiled wider. "You're welcome. There's a little walkway with a roof that leads to the bathtubs that we built not long ago just in case the weather was bad when we needed one, I'll lead you to it."

He mumbled an "okay" and I placed the clothes in a picnic basket so that they wouldn't get wet from me holding them, and grabbed his hand once again, leading him out the door.


	3. Chapter Two

"Thank you." Pete said, while toying with the sleeves on the sweater I gave him to wear. I chuckled a little and moved the fabric back up to his shoulder, because it kept falling off. "You've said that a million times." I told him. He shrugged and looked down. "I dunno, its just kinda a lot, you don't even know me, and you just—" I cut him off and placed my hand on his upper arm, "Pete, its all okay, who cares if I didn't know you, I do now, besides. You can always count on the kindness of strangers."

He seemed to blush and nodded lightly, and soon turned his attention to a little black rectangle that he'd placed on the table by my bed before we left to the bathtubs. 

"What's that?" I asked, leaning over his shoulder. I could see his face twist up into that of confusion from under his still-wet hair. "What do you mean?" Pete asked, then slowly realized what I was getting at. "Have...you never seen one before?" I shook my head and got a little closer to him to see the thing a little clearer. "How long has this place existed...?" He asked me, and made the little rectangle's glowing front go black. 

"The sixties, I think." I replied. His eyes widened a bit and I could see him piecing together everything in his mind. "So like...no recent electronics? No cell phones? Tablets? Computers? Not even a CD player?" I shook my head again. "I don't know what any of that is." I said, making Pete laugh a little. 

"Well, uhm..." He jabbed the little rectangle in my direction and made the front glow again. "This is a cellphone. iPhone. You talk to people on it, and you can go on the internet and watch videos and stuff. I mean, sixties isn't that bad, yeah? You still had some stuff, right?"

"We did have some stuff, I don't know what all it was, we aren't really allowed to have electronics– the one thing we get to mess with on occasion is my grandfather's record player..." I said, blushing hard at my lack of knowledge. He was acting like this was something almost everyone should have known about; I, obviously, was not everyone. "But we can listen to that if you want! It still works great!" I jumped up from my bed and grabbed the bulky machine from my grandmother and grandfather's side of the room, packing it back over with some struggle. 

"I think there was probably some of what you're talking about by the time we were founded, but we're not allowed to use a lot of electronics because the reason for this place was to give it all up... We basically have this and the cool contraption that the optometrist uses to find out what kind of glasses to give you." I placed it down on the floor and pulled out a stack of records that I kept behind the table by my bed.

"Woah, man...that's new even to me..." Pete said, and leaned over me to look at the records as I went through them. I only had a few, and they were of random genres, but they were there nonetheless. "Those are probably worth a lot of money now! I mean damn, you've got all the classics!" I rolled my eyes at him and pulled out my Elvis Presley self-titled record, and placed it on the turntable, then made sure that the speaker by my clothing chest was set up properly.

"We don't use money." I said simply, before turning on the player and smiling as the music played throughout the room. "This is a good song." I told him. I laid back on the bed and nodded my head along to the beat of _I Got a Woman _. Pete did so as well, and looked as if he was really getting into it. "Elvis Presley man, always known the name, never really listened!" He exclaimed as he did a little dance in his seat.__

__I laughed and did the same, only laying down. "The King is some good stuff! I love it! The albums always been my favorite out of all of them!" I said as I threw my hands up. Pete smiled wide and only shook his head. "Nah, Elvis's good but I bet I could get you to like some others if I could show you some of the music I listen to. I won't for now though, don't wanna corrupt you too early." He patted my chest and flopped down next to me on the small bed that was made of hay and sewn together pieces of fabric scraps._ _

__"For a bunch of sixties guys you sure seem to all live like pioneers from a Laura Ingalls Wilder book." He told me as he got comfortable on the pokey and itchy mattress. "I don't know what that is, but I know, my neighbor, Elias, told me that it was much more advanced back then, but my grandparents wanted to start all over and live more of an anarcho-primitivist lifestyle I guess, except not really ten thousand years ago."_ _

__He nodded along and shrugged. "That makes sense." That was the last thing that came out of his mouth before my grandmother walked through the doorway to the small shared bedroom. "Patrick, hun, its stopped raining for a bit, I think Peter should be heading home before it starts back up, don't you?" She said, raising her eyebrows a bit. I shook my head. "Can he stay for the night? He doesn't really have anywhere to go, he's not from here..." I begged as she shook her head. "Patrick...we've got enough mouths to feed as it is..."_ _

__I pouted and gave her the puppy dog eyes, and Pete watched us amusedly._ _

__"Hmph...fine...But only for one night. He needs to go sometime tomorrow. And he better not get in the way of your chores!" She scolded me and walked over to her side of the room to grab a nightgown from her clothing chest. "I promise he won't!" She shook her head and smiled slightly, and I high five Pete as she left the room._ _


	4. Chapter Three

I watched Pete stretch and ruffle his own hair, the sweater I had given him almost completely off his torso at this point. I could see more of his tattoos this way, but I didn't want to stare. That would be rude. But he was just so interesting, and while it wasn't in a very romantic way, I thought of him as pretty, in a sense. All of this while we had only met just yesterday. 

"Mornin' Pete." I acknowledged, and he jumped a little. "Didn't notice you were awake.." He said back, and laughed quietly at himself. "Yeah, well. If you get any smaller, you're gonna have to start wearing Isabel's clothes." I teased, and climbed out of the bed, patting his head quickly. "Wanna help cook breakfast?"

He nodded fast and jumped out after me. "Hell yeah, sounds fun!" Pete exclaimed, and I swear, I had never seen anyone so excited to cook breakfast for sixty people. I laughed at him, and turned to put the sweater back on his torso correctly. "Well come on, there's a lot to do. I need to go outside and check the time so we can know how long we have to cook everything." I could see him hesitate and look back at the iPhone that he'd shown me yesterday, but nod and follow me out the door. 

We walked out to the field that was in front of all the buildings, the ground was soaking wet and I could see the tarp had fallen onto the clothesline. Our crops were all floating in water and I was hoping that it wouldn't rain for a few days. 

I looked up at the sky, and saw the sun just slowly rising in the east, and Pete did the same, but with a more confused and annoyed look on his face that looked kind of similar to my own squinting due to the brightness messing with my vision. 

"I'd say it's about...6:10, 6:15. We've got about an hour." I concluded. He just nodded simply, and I could tell he was still pretty confused, and I just laughed. 

"You really are somethin'."

"Well, I'm not use to being a freakin' pilgrim!"

"You won't have to get use to it for long. Grandmother said you have to leave today."

We were walking back to the house at this point, but I lead him on a detour to the river-flooded crops to get some potatoes for breakfast. 

"Will you come with me? At _least _to the edge of the woods? I don't wanna go by myself." I paused and leaned up from where I was bent over to grab the potatoes, and looked at him.__

__"I– I don't know...I've been into the woods but never that far, my grandfather told me its dangerous...M-Maybe you should just stay here longer?" I spluttered like a scared child on his first day of preschool. "Patrick, they already told me I have to go today, I don't wanna overstay my welcome..." He said as a deep blush covered his cheeks and he bent over with me to help me collect the ground vegetables._ _

__"I just....okay. I'll walk with you, Pete." I said hesitantly and turned around to walk back to the cabin. I could see him punch the air out of the corner of my eye. I rolled my eyes, and lead him through the front door, going through to the kitchen area and placing the potatoes down on the counter, instructing him to do the same._ _

__"So what're we making?"_ _

__"Hashbrowns."_ _

__"Hell yeah."_ _

__-_ _

__"Patrick!"_ _

__I whipped my head around to see Marcela, my best friend as said before, coming towards me. The skirt of her dress was bouncing up and down as she ran and she was noticeably barefoot on the wet, muddy ground. I saw Pete staring at her with a stupid grin on his face, and I followed his eyes to see that they were directly focused on her chest._ _

__I blushed madly at this realization and hit his arm, and he just looked up at me, grin still on his face. "What? She's hot." He said, and looked back her way._ _

__I sighed at him, but smiled when she jumped into my arms and hugged me tightly. "Patrick! I'm sorry about yesterday, it was just raining so hard and my Mama just made me this dress and I didn't wanna get it all muddy...But its pretty, look!" Marcela exclaimed and stretched out the edge of the white dress towards me so I could see._ _

__"Its beautiful!" I said, and Pete nodded in agreement. "It is! Wanna know what else is beautif—" I cut him off by hitting him in the back of the head, and he pouted. "Y-Your face. Your face is beautiful." I was happy with his save and I saw her smile wide at the compliment. "Thank you! I like your..." Her face dropped a little bit at the struggle to say something without sounding too rude. "Tattoos! They're very creative!" The only reason she could see some of them was because the sweater was falling again, and the ones on his chest and shoulders were partly visible._ _

__Pete thanked her and his gaze shifted to her left hand, which was decorated with a shiny ring that had a large diamond sitting on top. " _Damn _, girl! Who you marryin'?" He asked, eyes wide at the fancy looking ring. I saw Marcela cringe at the way he spoke, and she held up her hand. I frowned a little at the sight.___ _

____"I'm getting married to Gregory, he lives a couple cabins away. My Mama and Daddy said that we'd make pretty babies, and that he would be a good person to get married to, because they want us to have a lot of kids..."_ _ _ _

____The story made me upset. I had no idea why, I never did like Marcela romantically. The only thing was, that I was probably just upset over the fact that they were marrying over procreation and not love. "Good for you, girly! I bet he's cute as _hell _!" Pete said as he placed a hand on his hip.___ _ _ _

______I looked over at him, and he was covered in mud and dirt and grass stains because I'd been having him help me with all my chores instead of distract me from them. It had been two days and I could already tell that Pete generally wasn't the 'proper' type._ _ _ _ _ _

______"He's very cute!" Marcela said, and as if on cue, Gregory and Isabel came walking over, along with a few of the younger children. We were really the only older ones, aside from Jason and Paul, who were two of my cousins, and didn't really count because they were only about twelve. All of the other children were nine and under, or dead._ _ _ _ _ _

______I stuttered a little, and remembered why I wasn't suppose to be mad at Marcela for choosing procreation over love. Isabel was the reason. All of us older kids were told that we had to be married by the age of twenty, and I, as a matter of fact, surely did not love Isabel._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Uh, Pete, this is Geoffrey, Marcela's fiancé, and Isabel, _my _fiancé." I said, and Pete's eyes went wide. "Yo, dude, she's fuc–" I had to cut him off again by hitting him in the head. "She's beautiful. Happy now?" He said, and looked at me boredly. I nodded and smiled.___ _ _ _ _ _

________Isabel hugged me tightly, then leaned in and kissed my cheek. I took in the scene of Geoffrey and Marcela holding hands and Isabel waiting for me to do the same. It was then that I noticed how plain she and Marcela looked. They were wearing almost tge same dress, with their hair up the same wah. I looked around at all the little children and the adults from thirty to eighty years of age. Everyone was dressed the same, and never have I ever wanted away from that place more than right then._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Instead, I grabbed Pete's mud-coated hand._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"I, _uh _...Pete and I have to finish trying to get all the extra water off the garden, and set the tarp back up..." I stated, then dragged a confused Pete away with me, while Isabel, Marcela, and Geoffrey just stared with the same expression.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	5. Chapter Four

I frowned as Pete walked off into the woods, trying my hardest to keep from running back to the cabins and forgetting that any of it ever happened. But I couldn't break my promise to him.

He had gotten about ten feet away before he realized I wasn't behind him. He turned around and reached his hands out to me.

"Patrick! C'mon!" Shouted Pete through the few trees that were blocking my view of half his body. I blushed, and took off for a run towards him. I ran out of breath by the time I reached him, but that didn't matter.

Pete grabbed my hand and I blushed a little harder than I should have, especially considering I had been holding his hand and sleeping in the same bed as him for the past two days when I didn't even know so much as this man's last name or age. "Its just to the edge of the woods," He told me, squeezing my hand a bit in a way that I found oddly soothing, "Maybe farther if you're feeling up to it."

I nodded and pushed up my glasses before they fell off my face completely.

He turned his head to me and gave me a toothy grin, and I swore at that moment that this man who I knew nothing about would be the death of me. Mostly because he'd be gone and I'd be yearning to learn more about him rather than consider myself a friend without getting to know him. When that thought crossed my mind, it confused me, because I had always considered everyone my friend; Pete just happened to be the one person I needed to prove myself to.

"Its pretty out here when its not raining and you're not running to God knows where." Pete mused, looking around as he purposely dropped the basket holding his clothes, just long enough to catch it with a different grip before it hit the ground. I nodded and looked around with him, and tried not to think much of our hands that were still holding tightly onto one another.

The leaves crunched underneath our feet and I couldn't help but enjoy myself more in that serene moment more than I had any other in my life. I had closed my eyes and simply continued to walk, Pete acting as a somewhat guide to tell me when to keep doing so or when to stop.

It was quiet for the longest time, and then Pete asked the most shocking question out of the blue. "Patrick, are you gay?" He asked me, and I couldn't help but do a double take.

"Wh-What?"

I was obviously shocked; I'd never had this sort of conversation with anyone, aside from the time that my grandfather told me that it was bad, but I'd never actually known what it meant. All I knew was that it was something I wasn't suppose to be. Something that God didn't want me to be. 

"Are you gay?" Pete repeated, and I had to stop in my tracks to process. "I don't— I don't think so? I-I mean, I just– No?" He rolled his eyes at me, and stopped with me. "Do you even know what gay is?" He asked, and I hung my head. I heard him sigh and I blushed really hard. 

Pete lifted my head and I looked him in the eyes. "I'm gonna do something, okay? It doesn't mean anything, and you can't tell anybody, and if it makes you uncomfortable I want you to push me away, okay? If it doesn't make you uncomfortable, that's okay too, none of this has to go any further and none of this means anything more than me trying to be a good friend and help you figure it out, okay?" He told me. I nodded slowly, and he put his basket of clothes down on the ground. 

He leaned in and kissed me, and it felt as if all the oxygen in my lungs left my body and no more was able to get in. I didn't know exactly what to do, so I just closed my eyes and let it happen. I thought about how bad this probably was and how dumb it was considering I barely knew him and was engaged to a woman, but at the same time, I didn't really care. Pete was trying to be a good friend, and I wanted him to help me with whatever it was that he was helping me with. 

He pulled away after a few seconds, and as soon as he did, the air began to rush back into my lungs, as did the blood to my cheeks. 

"Did you like that?" Pete asked. I paused to think about it.

"W-Was I suppose to?" 

He sighed again and placed his hands on the sides of my arms. "There is no 'was I suppose to'. There's no right and wrong. I just need to know what you felt. Did you like it? Don't focus on whether you were suppose to. Just give me your raw and honest opinion. Did you like it, Patrick?" Said he. I blushed even harder.

"I– K-Kinda..." I trailed off and turned my head so that he couldn't see my face, "I d-did...I liked it, Pete." He turned my head to look at him again and smiled wide. "You're so freakin' gay, Patrick." Pete said, and my breath went away again. 

"P-Pete, no, I can't be gay! I-I mean, what i-if that's wrong? I can't be gay! That's wrong! I s-still don't know what it is, b-but my grandfather said so!" I rambled, and Pete shook his head. "You may not technically be gay, but there's a 99% chance that you do like boys, I mean that's basically gay, even if you do still like girls."

"O-Oh..." 

He picked his basket back up and adjusted the shoulder of the newer sweater I gave him to keep with his free hand, then grabbed mine and continued to walk towards the edge of the woods. 

I didn't dare speak another word about it the rest of the way there, but the tension in the atmosphere was so thick that not only could you cut it, but it'd take a hacksaw to do so.

When we finally reached the last few trees, Pete released my hand, and reached into the wicker basket to pull out the small black rectangle — what he'd called an iPhone earlier on.

"You don't have to go past here with me if you don't want to." He said. "But I'm gonna be comin' back in a few days, okay?" With that said, he handed me the device. 

"To turn on the screen, you press this button. Okay?" I nodded. "Press the numbers on the screen in this order." He handed me a small piece of paper from the basket with a number combination on it. "The picture will change, and then I want you to do all this, okay?" He handed me another, bigger piece of paper with instructions for something on it. I nodded again.

"Okay, Patrick, I'll see you in a few days, okay?" Pete said, then leaned in and kissed my cheek. "Bye, Patrick." He said, while walking past the few trees and into what I assumed was the city. "Goodbye, Pete!" I hollered back, and I heard him laugh from the other side.


	6. Chapter Five

I took in a shaky breath and walked through the door of our cabin, with the iPhone in my pocket, tucked away with the papers, so that nobody could notice it if they tried. 

"Patrick! You're back! Where on earth were you?!" I heard as soon as the door closed, and I cringed visibly. "I-I was walking Pete back..." I told her truthfully. I couldn't lie to my grandmother. I feel like I would die of guilt if I ever did. 

"You went out into the city?!" She half-yelled. It took me about three seconds to reply to that one. "N-No! I only went to the edge of the woods! He told me I didn't have to go any further!"

My grandmother came closer to me by the door, and grabbed me by the arm. "Are you lying to me, Martin?" She asked, her voice low as she was close to my face. I cringed at the second name I had inherited from my father's first, and shook my head fast. "N-No, ma'am! I'm not! I told him I couldn't anyways because th-the city is bad!" I told her. She sighed and released my arm.

"Peter isn't allowed to come back, Patrick."

"What?!" I cried, tears pricking my eyes even though I knew I shouldn't have felt so strongly over it. "That boy cannot come back. He is trouble. He will corrupt you more than he already has. He's already brainwashed you into going too close to the city! What next, is he going to have you using one of those weird little electronic device thing-a-majigs, the ones that you type something into, and send it to a number code, so that the person who's assigned to that number can read what you've typed?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "What the heck is that?" My grandmother sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't know, Martin! But if you're around that boy for too long that's what will happen! He'll have you tapping on one of those evil whatchamacallits while wearing women's pants, and even worse, kissing every boy you see!" She yelled.

My breath caught again like it did while we were in the woods, and tears welled up in my eyes. "Grandmother! Pete is not evil! Pete isn't bad! Pete's a good person! I-I love him! I love him just as much as I love Marcela or Ms. Sabrina, or– or Isabel! Pete is a good person! I don't know him very well, but one thing I do know, is that he would not try to corrupt me!" I shouted back. My grandmother's eyes went wide and I saw her place her hand over her heart as if she was about to drop to the floor.

"Patrick Martin Stumph, you will not talk to your grandmother in such a tone! Go to the bedroom! You are not allowed to leave for one week!" She hollered, and pointed towards the small doorway that lead to the beds. Tears fell down my cheeks. 

"M-My last name is Galligil! I am not Patrick Stumph! I am Patrick Martin Galligil!" I said to her in the same tone, and I suddenly felt a stinging in my cheek. "That is what the birth certificate says! With that way of acting, you are just like him!" She said, and grabbed me by the arm, then lead me into the bedroom.

She shoved me inside and closed the door that they had only installed in case something like this happened. Then, she locked the door, and left me to sit on my bed. I brought my knees to my chest, and let the tears fall freely, just like my Mama told me when I was little. She told me it was okay to cry. She told me it was okay to be upset. So I cried, just like she told me.

I looked over at the record player that was still on the floor from the days before when Pete and I were listening to the music, only this time I didn't have the energy to turn it on myself. I turned my attention back to wallowing in my own pitiful desires to be with a man whom I had only known the name of. While I couldn't turn on the turntable, I heard the sound of the song in my head, even though it had no real significance to the situation; the only significance was that it was something we both liked, and I cherished that greatly.


	7. Chapter Six

With a shaky deep breath that seemed to fill my lungs with an achey and burning fire, I pulled out the iPhone that Pete handed to me, along with the papers that he'd given me with the instructions. I swallowed the lump in my throat and wiped away the tears on my cheeks that were both caused from crying during the fallout with my grandmother; then, I read the numbers on the smaller paper.

Clicking the button, I was caught in the tiniest moment of shock when I saw how I had effected the brightness of the device. Then, I looked at the little square that had the little numbers in it.

"So I just...I just tap on them?" I asked aloud, and I was surprised at my own voice, as it sounded quiet and deep and broken, and just generally not like my own. Alas, I ignored the fact and pressed my finger down onto the glowing screen.

"Two, three, eight, six?" I wondered as I tapped them in the order that Pete had written them down. After I typed them in, the screen switched to one that had a bunch of little squares with text underneath them. After this, I looked down to the second paper.

"Once you've gotten past the first screen," I read, "Swipe your finger across it. The little icons on the screen are called apps; swipe until you see one with a little rounded-rectangle with a tail coming off of it." 

I scrunched up my face at his way of explaining it. It sounded very complicated, but I did as told anyway. Once I saw it, I stopped, and noticed that the 'app' had the word 'messenger' underneath it. I then read what to do next.

"Tap on the icon like you did with the numbers."

I did so and the screen changed again, this time to one with a single bar with the name 'Pete' in it. 

"Tap on my name."

I did what he told me again.

"Now, there should be another bar at the bottom of the screen. Tap on that, and a bunch of letters appear. I want you to tap on the letters in the order of a message that you would like to send to me. There's also a button that says space, it will be used to put spaces between your words. Then, when its finished, tap send."

I scrunched up my face again. I had no idea how I was suppose to do this. But, I tried anyway.

P  
E  
T  
E

Space.

H  
E  
L  
P

Space.

M  
E

Space.

I

Space.

A  
M

Space.

L  
O  
C  
K  
E  
D

Space.

I  
N

Space.

M  
Y

Space.

R  
O  
O  
M

Tap send. The message was turned into the same little blue rounded-rectangle that was on the little icon. 

It was about five seconds before the device vibrated and another rounded-rectangle appeared, this one being white. I read out the message that must have been from Pete. 

'What happened'

I sighed and began to tap the letters again. 

M  
E

A  
N  
D

M  
Y

G  
R  
A  
N  
D  
M  
O  
T  
H  
E  
R

F  
A  
U  
G  
H  
T

I  
T

I  
S

H  
A  
R  
D

T  
O

M  
A  
K  
E

T  
H  
E  
S  
E

M  
E  
S  
S  
A  
G  
E  
S

Send.

Another five seconds and a new bubble appeared.

'How long are you gunna be in there'

I braced myself for the new message. I was hoping I'd get use to this fast. 

O  
N  
E

W  
E  
E  
K

B  
U  
T

L  
O  
N  
G  
E  
R

I  
F

S  
H  
E

F  
I  
N  
D  
S

M  
E

O  
N

T  
H  
E

I  
P  
H  
O  
N  
E

Send. 

'Fuck man. That's a long time. I'm coming tomorrow. I'll talk to you through the little cracks between the wall logs.'

P  
E  
T  
E

N  
O

D  
O  
N  
T

S  
A  
Y

T  
H  
A  
T

W  
O  
R  
D

Y  
O  
U  
R

M  
A  
M  
A

I  
S

G  
O  
I  
N  
G

T  
O

M  
A  
K  
E

Y  
O  
U

E  
A  
T

S  
O  
A  
P

'I'll live.'

I groaned internally at Pete's lack of interest in trying not to get in trouble. 

P  
E  
T  
E

I

H  
O  
P  
E

T  
O  
M  
O  
R  
R  
O  
W

C  
O  
M  
E  
S

F  
A  
S  
T

'Me too, Patrick.'


	8. Chapter Seven

I was awoken by a knocking on the wood logs behind my head, which ended up shocking me so badly that I jolted up as if I had been having a nightmare.

"Patrick," I heard someone whisper, "Patrick, wake up!" I rubbed my eyes tiredly and turned around. "Pete? Is that you?" I asked, voice crackly and deeper than normal. "Yeah, bro." They said. I looked through the cracks between the logs, and sure enough that's who it was, standing there as the moon illuminated his face slightly and made his hair shine a bit. 

"Pete, its super late, why are you here?" I asked him. He passed me a paper through one of the slits. "I'm here to bust you out, fag." He said as if I should have known that by now. I furrowed my eyebrows. As I read the paper, I realized what he had called me. "Excuse me, but I do not smoke cigarettes!"

'Get your stuff. Get out.' Was all that was on the paper. I rolled my eyes.

"Patrick, that's not what I— oh, nevermind. Just...is there a window anywhere in here?" He said. I looked around a bit, still extremely groggy, trying to remember if there was. Then, my eyes landed on a large hole in the logs of wood, that had been caused by an infestation of woodrats the year before. 

"N-No, but there's this hole near the ground that was made by some rats–" Pete cut me off. "Can you fit through it?" He asked eagerly. I shrugged. 

"Maybe if I suck in my gut—"

"Okay, good, get all your shit." 

I sighed and crawled out of my bed. "Do we really need to?" I asked. "Yes. Yes we do." He replied. I groaned a little, but started gathering up my things in a basket. "My grandparents are going to be so upset..." I trailed off, shoving in my clothes. "Who cares? Let 'em get pissed. You're a legal adult and you should be able to do what you want with your life." 

I frowned, but continued. "B-But where will we go? Your father kicked you out, and you said your friend won't let you stay with him for long..." 

"I found this cool guy named Martin who'll let us stay with him for a while. Then, soon we can fly back to Willamette and we can get jobs, or just me if you'd like, and squat in this abandoned house up the road from mine until we can get an apartment." He informed me, and I let out a quiet 'oh'. "Doesn't it sound fun?" Asked Pete.

"Very..." I said, still very unsure.

"I knew you'd love it."

Once I got everything put into a basket, I looked at the old record player. "P-Pete?" 

"Yeah?"

"Can we bring the record player?"

"We'll have to come back and get it later, buddy."

"Okay..."

As I placed my basket through the hole and got on the ground, I began to wonder why on earth it couldn't be Pete who had to squeeze through a little rat hole in the wall. He was small enough to do so. 

"C'mon, Pat, let's get this rollin'!" His disembodied voice called. I sighed, and stuck my feet through the hole, laying back on the floor so that I could slide out. "Don't call me Pat!" I said back to him while doing so. I could tell he was rolling his eyes as I slid through. Everything was fine until it got to my torso, and I stopped suddenly.

"Pete?" I called again. 

"Yeah?"

"I'm stuck."

I could hear him sigh, then the sound of his feet slapping against the still-wet grass. Then I felt him grab my ankles. "Suck in as hard as you can, and I'll pull at the same time, okay?" He said. I called back an 'okay' and waited. "One...two...three!"

I sucked in the best I could while Pete's skinny hands tugged on my ankles. It wasn't long before I was suddenly very cold.

"Pete?"

"Yeah?"

"Did my pants just come off?"

"Yeah."

I groaned a little, blushing hard. "You have very nice legs, Patrick." He said, and wrapped his hands around my now-bare ankles.

"One...two...three!"

This time I felt myself move a bit, and after a little bit I was suddenly staring up at the starry night sky. "I'm out?" I asked, breathing heavily. "Yup!" Pete confirmed. I quickly climbed to my feet and pulled up my pants with a deep blush, then grabbed my basket of belongings. 

"Still got the phone I gave you?" He asked, as he grabbed my hand and began to lead me to the woods. I hummed and nodded towards the basket in my other hand. "Nice."

"So am I...am I going into the city? Like...for real?" I asked, a terrified look covering my features. "Yes you are. But don't worry, farmboy, I'll protect you!" Pete teased.


	9. Chapter Eight

I squeezed Pete's hand, and followed slightly behind him through the woods. We were taking the same path as last time. "Think you're ready for the city, farmboy?" He asked, and I shrugged. "I-I dunno...probably not..." I replied truthfully. He shook his head playfully. 

"Well, close your eyes." He said. I hesitated. He seemed to be able to tell. "I'll guide you, Patrick. Just close your eyes." I signed, but did as told. Pete lead me forwards, at some points quickly jarring in a random direction to probably avoid trees or other obstacles in the way. 

"Okay, stop." 

I stopped abruptly. 

I felt his hands go over my eyes, and I took that as a sign to go ahead and open them. He probably felt my eyelashes flutter against his hands, because afterwards, he slowly removed them. 

I gasped at what I saw; it was all very bright an beautiful despite it having been late into the night. 

"P-Pete, it's –" 

I was unable to finish my sentence, as I was caught without any breath like I was in the woods days before. "Pretty, right?" Said he. A blur zoomed past us so fast that it made a noise, and I saw all the lights twinkling, and was mesmerized despite not knowing what they were for. 

"It's breathtaking..." I told him, and he looked as if he were going to explode from happiness. He was bouncing from foot to foot, and he had his arms curled in close to his body as the widest, brightest grin covered his face that was illuminated by all the pretty lights. I was so overwhelmed. My grandmother always told me that cities were evil, polluted places that were birthplaces of even eviller people. Tears welled up in my eyes at the whole atmosphere. 

I turned and looked at Pete, then proceeded to wrap him in a tight bear-hug. He hugged back immediately, and laughed as he buried his face in my neck. "Thank you, Pete." I said. He squeezed me a little harder and pulled away. "You're welcome, Pat– trick... I forgot you didn't want me to call you Pat..." He said with a deep blush. 

I laughed and hugged myself. "Yeah, don't." I said to him. He rolled his eyes, then unwrapped my arms from around me, then grabbed my free hand. "C'mon, we gotta go to Joe's." I nodded, and he gripped my hand a little harder. He squatted a little bit, and I looked at him confusedly. Then, he darted across the rocky line of ground that all the blurs had gone by on, just before another whirred by.

I felt my heart beating in a way that seemed faster than sound. "Pete! What the heck?! What the heck are those things?! Holy mother of gosh!" I exclaimed, putting a hand over my chest. 

Pete laughed at me, and continued to drag me between all the tall, lit-up structures that had littered the city. "Those are cars, Patrick. They're dangerous. Don't go in the road." He told me. I nodded fast, eyes still wide and heart still beating like a hummingbird. I was distracted by all the lights that I was still extremely mesmerized by; I simply let Pete drag me along. 

"You like it here a lot, don't you?" I heard him ask, and I only nodded. He laughed at me again, and pretty soon we stopped at a large structure with lots of different clear panes lined up on every side. "Pete?"

"Yeah?"

"What is this place?"

"Its an apartment building, Patrick." He said, and I watched him press a few buttons on a little pad by what I supposed was the door. "What's an apartment building?" I asked. There was a shrill beep and a static sound, before Pete spoke to the little button pad.

"It's Pete!" He half-yelled.

I begun to question my choice of going with him as it soon became clear to me that Pete may or may not have been a little off his rocker. 

It was a couple seconds, and the little pad spoke back, leaving me quite taken aback and frankly, kind of scared for my life. 

"Oh yeah, come on up, little guy." The pad said back, it's voice was kind of muffled and fuzzy-sounding. The doors opened suddenly and Pete pulled me into a room with a desk and a lot of open space. There was a fuzzy slip of fabric and it wasn't until I stepped on it that I realized that I was, in fact, not wearing any shoes. Pete saw me stop, and turned around, giving me a confused look until he saw me staring wide-eyed at my bare feet that were touching the fuzzy cloth. 

"Patrick, that's a rug. Come on." He chuckled, and I nodded, still pretty distracted by it when we walked away. The person that was sitting at the desk looked tired and confused, and rolled her eyes at me and my picnic basket full of clothes. "Hey!" 

I jumped at the sudden voice and Pete stopped, and we both whipped around to look at the lady at the desk. "Are you two the kids who're suppose to be movin' in with Joe?" She asked. I nodded, and Pete sighed when he saw how terrified I still looked. "I– uh, yeah, we are..." He stammered out. The lady smiled wide, and I began to observe her more closely. She had a block of shiny metal on her desk that had the name 'Marie' engraved in the front. 

"Why didn't you just say so?" She asked, and placed two card and two keys down on her desk. "Me and Joe are good buddies, he asked me to make a couple extra keys to his room for you guys. There's a card and an actual key for each of you, I can't remember if its the keyhole or the scanner to his room that doesn't work." She said. "Thank you, ma'am." I said with a smile, and hers grew while Pete just rolled his eyes. 

"He acts funny, he's not from here, just try and ignore it if he fucks something up. He's still learning." Pete said as if I weren't in the room. I frowned. The lady just laughed. "It's okay, I like him, he's very polite." She said. "I'm Marie. Just tell me if you guys need anything, okay?"

I let go of Pete's hand and walked closer to the desk, and put out my hand for her to shake. "I'm Patrick! Thank you!" I exclaimed, and she laughed again, and shook my hand. "Very nice to meet you Patrick, I'm assuming that one's Pete?" Marie said after we let go of each other's hands. I nodded, and I saw Pete pinch the bridge of his nose out of the corner of my eye. 

"Let me tell you something, Patrick," She started, leaning forwards over the desk some, "No matter what, keep being you, okay? I don't care if Pete wants you to become like him, you're still a very charming boy, don't ever stop being nice to anyone, okay? The golden rule. If you treat people nice, they most likely won't be mean to you like they are to Pete. Hell, he's got a few tricks he could learn from you. Not the other way around."

I blushed and nodded with a smile. She smiled back. "Alright, you can go now!" Marie said, and Pete let out a breath and grabbed my hand again. "Fuckin' finally!" He yelled, and a disembodied voice yelled back. 

'Quiet the hell down!'

As Pete took me to a silver panel in the wall with buttons beside it, I moved close to him. He pressed one of the buttons, and soon the panel moved into the wall and revealed a tiny room with rails on the walls. I squeezed his hand tighter as he lead me into it.

"But really Pete, what is an apartment building?"


	10. Chapter Nine

Pete took one of the little cards that the woman gave to us and swiped it through a little silver slot in the door. Nothing really seemed to happen, and he simply nodded and pulled out the physical key. He jammed it into the keyhole, and twisted it fast, grinning wide when it clicked. 

"Okay, forget about the card, okay? I'm kinda happy I don't have to reach you to use one yet. You just gotta use the key like a normal key, okay?" He said, twisting the nob and pushing the door open. I nodded, and he grabbed my hand again to lead me inside. "Hey, Fro Hoe!" He screamed, and I flinched, almost dropping my basket. A man with lots of curly brown hair and a beard and striking blue eyes emerged from a door next to the family sofa in the room that we walked into. 

"P-E-T-E!" He exclaimed, "This the kid?" He then gestured towards me and Pete nodded. His voice sounded kind of oddly spacey and he had a lisp, and he also had visible tattoos like Pete. "Waddup there, kiddo? I'm Joe!" The curly man said, and brought his fist towards me. I flinched, but it stopped a little short of my body. When I opened my eyes, he was looking at me with his eyebrows raised. 

Pete sighed and grabbed my wrist, forming my hand into a fist and tapping it against Joe's. "Oh.." I muttered, blushing deeply. They both laughed and Joe slapped my back fairly hard, and while I jumped, I ignored it the best I could because I wanted to try and fit in. "Come on, lil' dudes, I'll show you the room!" He said, and placed his hands on mine and Pete's back to lead us to the door that he had come out of before.

"There's one bedroom but its plenty big. I'm in the process of getting the third bed so one of you may have to sleep together or with me until I actually have it. Unless ya' wanna sleep on the floor, which I don't reccomend if you're a restless sleeper...or y'know, at all...its concrete..." He said with a little chuckle. "Nah, its okay man, me and Pa– Trick. Me and Trick are cool with sleeping in the same bed, I stayed with him at his old place for a few days and it was kinda cozy so we slept together. Its actually pretty nice, he cuddles instead of rootin' you off the bed." 

I smiled a little at the new nickname he'd given me. "Ah, alright dude, I'm a little happy you kept talking. I thought it was gonna get gay." Joe laughed. Pete just looked at me and wiggled his dumb-looking eyebrows. Joe rolled his eyes at us and I blushed and looked away. He leaned in and whispered something in Pete's ear, and I just stood there out of place while they laughed and did the same fist-touchy thing that Joe and I had done in the front room. 

When he pulled away, he tried to make smalltalk.

"Trick's a pretty interesting name, huh? How'd ya' get it? Do somethin' cool? Eat a lot of cereal...?" Joe asked, and I shook my head so mildly that you wouldn't have been able to see it if you weren't looking very closely. I was still trying to get use to speaking around Joe, normally I'd be bold and happy but Joe was an intimidating person; he was taller than me and Pete and he had cool tattoos and fuzzy hair and he smelled strongly of herbs, which I assumed was like the pheromone that attracts humans together like bugs. After all, everywhere that we had been smelled that way. His eyes were bright and pretty, and it was like when a female wolf looked for her mate; most would look for the one with the most striking features and was most alpha material. 

Pete spoke for me instead. "His name's Patrick but he doesn't like bein' called Pat, so I kinda improvised, y'know?" He said, and Joe nodded. "Cool shit, lil' dudes." Joe said with a wide, and clearly genuine grin, "Pete calls me Joe Troh the Fro Hoe; he's obviously one for nicknames." I nodded, and smiled a little. "Lovely.." I said truthfully, and looked over at Pete. 

"What is it, like, one a.m.?" Pete asked out of the blue, and Joe brought his wrist to his face where a silvery bracelet with a circle on top rested. "1:23a.m." He said. I furrowed my brows but left it be. "We should get to bed, huh? We gotta start looking for jobs tomorrow." Said Pete, and I nodded. "Alrighty, cool. If ya' can't tell..." Joe trailed off and gestured towards the messier, unmade bed. "That'n's mine, you two can have the other one 'til I get another. I'm pro'ly not gonna go to bed 'til later, just lettin' ya' know ahead of time."

Pete nodded for me and grabbed my hand, then lead me over to the made bed, knocking me down onto it, and I swore Joe lingered and stared at us for a second before he left the room. 


	11. Chapter Ten

I woke up pressed against Pete's chest, and I really wanted to move and make it less awkward, but he was just so warm. I knew it wasn't okay because touches like this should be saved solely for married couples. Nothing was wrong with friend-hugs or friend-sitting-really-close or even friend-sleeping-in-the-same-bed but I knew that I was liking it a little too much. Then again, Pete was just the kind of person to warm up to.

I saw him move a little bit and I quickly snapped my eyes shut so that he wouldn't notice me staring. I felt him ruffle my hair a little bit and then slowly start to move himself from underneath me. I had to stop myself from whining and I didn't even know why. After I heard his footsteps fade off into the other room, I opened my eyes, and slowly slid out of bed. I spent a little bit of time putting all my clothes on top of the vanity-looking piece of furniture with a bunch of drawers in it. 

After that I slowly walked out of the room, and saw Joe and Pete sitting on the family couch. They both looked up at me when I walked through the door, and Pete smiled. "Good, you're up! We need to get showers, we gotta start looking today!" He said, and stood up from the piece of furniture, placing the brown glass bottle he had in his hand on the table in front of it. Joe nodded and did the same. "Yeah, 'lil dudes, gotta get responsibility in your lives!" He exclaimed. Pete and I looked at him like he was a mentally ill person trying to use the backhoe.

He slowly realized who he was talking to and sat back down. 

Pete rolled his eyes and took my hand to lead me towards another door that was kind of hidden from us when we walked in for the first time. "Pete...why does he call us ''lil dudes'...?" I asked. Pete just shrugged. "I dunno. He's not even older than us." He told me. Joe called from the sofa that he was sitting on when we left. "But I'm taller than you! So I have the right!"

"Barely!" Pete yelled back, and I shook my head at the two of them. Pete had led me into a small room with an elevated pit in front of a mirror, a weird white bowl-looking thing, and a tub kind of like we had lots of in the washroom. "Okay, so, I know you guys didn't have showers there because I took a bath there–"

"Yes we do," I interjected, "We get rain just like any other city. It's monsoon season!" He laughed a little. "Well...  
Think of this as rain...That– That you bathe in. Okay? I'm gonna turn it on and hand hand you a washcloth, then you just take off your clothes and step in, okay? There's soap right there, and the shampoo's in that bottle. Its like a normal bath, except the water's running on you like rain instead of you sitting in it." 

I nodded, and he handed me a rag. "Uh– Pete? Can you stay in here in case something goes wrong? Y-You can put something up so you don't have to see me bathing, b-but I don't wanna hurt myself..." I said with a blush. He sighed and rolled his eyes, but nodded. When he twisted the little knob that rested at one end of the bathtub, a spray of water came down from something on the top. 

"Turn around..." I whispered. He did so, and I quickly took off all my clothes, hesitantly stepping into the rain-like downpour. "I-I'm in now..." I told him. I saw him turn around with one hand over his eyes, and feel about for anything to grab onto. He eventually placed his hand on the bunched up cloth that was at one end of the space, tugged at it a little bit, then pulled it the opposite direction until it hit the other wall. I blushed and covered my face with my hands at the obvious solution that I knew I could have fixed if I'd have thought about it. 

"S-So I...I just bathe? In the rain?" I asked, and he let out a sigh of 'Yes, Patrick' in return. I nodded even though he couldn't see me and hesitantly ducked my head under the water. I jumped a little, but grabbed the shampoo bottle that Pete had showed to me and popped the little cap on it, then squirted some into my hand and started massaging it into my hair. 

"How ya' doin' in there?" He asked. "Okay so far." I replied as I began to rinse my hair. "Okay, well I'm gonna go get you some clothes, okay?" I whispered back an 'okay', and I heard the door open and close. I began to work on getting the soap on the rag, and I was nearly done bathing when Pete came back. I twisted the little knob in the opposite direction that Pete had, and jumped a little out of happiness when I finally did something on my own. 

"I'm gonna go so you can get dressed, okay? There's a towel sitting on the sink by your clothes for you!" He said, and the door opened and closed again. I pushed back the opaque-but-sheer cloth that Pete had pushed forward, and stepped out onto the rug that had been placed in front of the tub. Then I grabbed the towel and started to dry off. 

"Pete...?" I called a little shyly as I stepped out of the bathroom. He looked up, sitting on the family sofa with Joe once again. "I don't – I don't think that these are my clothes..." I said, blushing a little. They both laughed, and I looked down at the baggy cotton shirt and very tight pants that he had laid out. "They are now, I wanted to get you something you could wear so you don't really, y'know..." He trailed off, looking for what to say. Joe butted in for him. "Stick out like a sore thumb?"

"Basically."

"What's wrong with my button-up?" I said, frowning. "People from here normally don't wear that kind'a stuff unless they're going to church or on a date or something, I don't want anyone to make fun of you, I don't wanna have to go to jail anytime soon." Pete said. Joe nodded as if it was a sign of his agreement. 

"Okay..."


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This has a slight bit of non-con so be warned okayokay

Pete wasn't able to get a job anywhere big, because he had tattoos showing, and he didn't want to cut his hair. Companies apparently didn't like that, I never really knew why. Because of that he got a job at one of the tiny rooms inside the city's big store that lots of different stuff, it was dark and the walla were black and there was lots of different things inside. They played loud, croaky music with choppy-sounding guitar most of the time and all of the employees had at least one tattoo or facial jewelry piece, and hair that was either black or an unnatural color.

I qualified for a few jobs because I had no tattoos or facial jewelry at all, but I wasn't able to have any of them because I had a lack of experience with jobs in the past. Therefore I was offered to work in one of the tiny rooms in the big store too, and I chose the black room so that I could be with Pete as many times as possible, even if we mostly worked on different days. 

Tonight was a night that he worked and I didn't. Joe was off at work too, some place where he worked with herbs and beverages. Pete didn't want me home alone so he was going to bring me to work with him and ask if I could work overtime but I declined. I wanted to teach myself to use the black box that had moving pictures on it. 

I was just grabbing a carrot for myself to eat when Pete opened the door to the apartment, and I looked at the clock that I was taught to use, only to find that he had come home an hour late. "Pete!" I cheered, approaching him at the front door. He had one of the brown bottles from the morning that we went job-hunting in his hand. "You're back!" I said, before placing my carrot down on the table in front of the family sofa.

"That I am, baby!" He exclaimed back, and I blushed a little. "Baby...?" I repeated questioningly. He nodded and got really close to my face. I tried to back away to avoid our lips touching accidentally but he kept getting closer every time I moved away, and I eventually ended up against the wall. He put his hands on my hips and I could feel the cold glass bottle against my skin when my shirt rode up a little.

I blushed hard and turned my head away when he put his face too close to mine. Instead, I felt his lips press against the skin underneath my ear. "Look at that, you're blushing, so adorable..." He said, and his voice didn't sound like Pete. "You– Did you just say that I'm cute?" I asked, whipping my head around. His breath smelled sour and I saw a smile curl onto his lips. "Not cute, adorable. Fuckin' gorgeous too..." Pete said, and brought the hand that didn't hold the bottle up to my face. He took my chin between his fingers and kissed me forcefully. 

I tried really hard not to close my eyes, but at the same time it was easy, because his mouth tasted really bad at the moment. It didn't taste like cherries and spearmint like it did when we kissed in the woods. 

When he pulled away he wiped his mouth and went back to kissing the skin under my ear, all the way down my neck and to my collarbone. It wasn't until then that the situation hit me like a ton of bricks. 

"P-Pete, are you i-inebriated?" I asked shakily. He pushed my shirt up a little more and I blushed as his hands roamed the swell of my stomach all the way up to my chest. "The hell does that mean?" He muttered as he started to tug off my shirt. I squirmed and let out a noise of discomfort. "H-Have you consumed any alcohol o-or harmful drugs in the past t-twelve hours?" I asked. "Yup. Pretty boy talks so proper. Wonder how you'll sound when my cock's up your—"

Pete's sentence was cut short when Joe opened the front door, and he stopped to stare at us for a minute. Pete rolled his eyes and pulled my hips toward him by the waistband of my pants. "I-I could leave if you guys want–!" Joe said, eyes wide. Pete frowned. "Yeah, d'be a good idea, curly boy." He said, a hint of malice in his voice. Joe quickly took notice of the way Pete didn't sound like Pete just like I did, and I looked up at him with big eyes. "Wentz, dude, are you drunk?" He questioned, a little louder than he was before. 

Pete hummed and brought his hands around to my back, and squeezed my bum hard, making me yelp. Joe immediately got behind him and pried him off of me, and I slid down to the floor after. I watched him yell at Pete and I flinched when he punched him in the eye. Pete yelled back for a few seconds but pulled himself away and walked away to the bedroom.

"I'm sorry about him, 'Trick..." Joe said, grabbing my hand and pulling me up. "You can sleep in the bed with me tonight, okay? He'll be better in the morning, I promise." I nodded and squeezed his hand tightly. "Joe, why was he doing that? What was he trying to do?" I looked up at him while I pulled down my shirt the rest of the way. "He was drunk, kiddo." Joe replied as we walked into the bedroom. Pete was passed out on our bed. "I know...but...what was he doing?"

"He was trying to make you..." Joe stopped and looked as if he were finding the right words to say. "Make him, uh...feel good..." I nodded a little and looked down. "Why'd you punch him?"

"'Cuz he deserved it. Just try not to think about it and go to sleep, okay? He's drunk and I know he didn't mean it, just remember to tell me if he ever makes you uncomfortable again, okay?"

"Okay..." I whispered, taking my glasses off and slowly crawling into Joe's bed. He got in behind me, and I hesitated, but I creeped closer to him and curled into his chest to bring myself a little bit of comfort.


	13. Chapter Twelve

The next morning was slow. I had gotten out of bed and taken another shower by myself. When I got dressed I chose my own clothes and disregarded the baggy cotton shirts and tight jeans that Pete had been forming a collection of for me. When I came out of the room he was nowhere to be seen so I assumed he may have went with Joe to test some of the products like they did every once in a while.

When I walked into the kitchen to get myself some breakfast before I headed off to work, Pete was there, rummaging through the fridge and pulling out every single bottle that even remotley resembled the one he had in his hand the night before, and some that were completely different. I frowned and grabbed an apple from the basket of produce that Pete had asked Joe to get before I came, and turned to walk back into the living space.  Before he could, Pete grabbed me by the wrist, and turned me back around. I visibly cringed but tried to hide that. 

When I looked at him, his eyes went soft and he hugged me tightly. "Patrick, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it. I got drunk, like, really drunk, I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry..." He whimpered, and I felt the shoulder of my button-up shirt become damp from tears. He was actually crying into my shirt. Pete was the kind of person whom you knew you would never see cry, yet here he was. 

He pulled away and placed a hand on either side of my face. "I'm so so sorry, Patrick. I'm not gonna drink anymore, I promised myself that and I'm promising you that, because that was something I should not have done. One time is one too many times. Please forgive me, Patrick. That wasn't okay. You do know that wasn't okay, right?" He rambled. I saw black streaks on his face from the creamy charcoal he put under his eyes every morning. I shrugged a little bit and looked away. "Patrick, please tell me you know that wasn't okay..." Pete whispered.

"I d-didn't know. B-But now I do! Quite frankly I didn't have a single idea what you were trying to do, let alone that it was wrong..." I said. I saw his face twist into a frown from the corner of my eye. "Okay, Patrick, look." He started, lifting my face like my grandmother did when I refused to make eye contact with her. "If anyone — anyone — ever does anything like that to you, me and Joe and everyone else you know included, and you don't want them to, if it makes you uncomfortable, if you didn't say they could do anything like that, if you didn't give them permission – it is not okay. That's why I asked you if it was okay to kiss you in the woods. If anyone puts their hands on you at all and you didn't tell them they could, then it's not okay. Ever." 

I frowned. "Then wh-why did you do it last night..?" I asked him. His face twisted up. "I-I...I don't know... I was drunk. And that is not a forgiveable excuse, so if someone does that and tells you they were drunk the next morning, that's not a reason they're innocent, okay? That was all my fault and I know I did wrong. If someone makes you uncomfortable you don't let it go any farther. If they put your hands on you, hit them or bite them or try to get away. If anyone so much as says anything that makes you upset, you walk away. Then you tell me and I'll take care of them. Okay? And it is never your fault if any of that ever happens. If they try to tell you it is, don't believe them. It's always the person's fault who's doing it, not the person that they're doing it to."

I nodded, and replied in a whisper.

"Okay..."

"Good. I'm coming to work with you today, too. I asked the boss if I could work overtime." He said, and I nodded. "We— we need to go, don't we?" I asked, and Pete nodded, picking up the box that he had thrown all the bottles into then grabbing an apple like myself. "We gotta throw all these in the dumpster, first, though." He said. I nodded and took a bite of the apple that was already in my hand as he lead me out of the apartment door.

"Okay."


	14. Chapter Thirteen

"Patrick, can I talk to you for a minute?"

I looked up from my place in the corner of the store, where I had been sitting on the floor, sorting guitar picks that had the emblems of different musical artists into jars that had their matching type inside. "Yes?" I asked, and I saw the boss walking towards us. "I wanna talk for a minute, I think there's a little more that you can do than...that." She said, looking down and gritting her teeth at the five individually sorted jars of guitar picks that I had already separated.

I nodded and stood up. I dusted off my pants, then bent down to pick up each jar and place them on the counter, which Pete was standing at and wiping down as he waited for another person to come and place the items they had selected onto it. 

The boss flipped her firetruck red hair and lead me into the 'break room'. There were a few other people in there. Jared, the boy who's hair was stubbly on one side and voice was really deep and had a ring between his nostrils like a Matador's bull. Charlie, the person whom had asked Pete and I not to call them by he or she, and had very striking blue eyes that they had recently told us wasn't their real eye color. There was Mikey, who had choppy blond hair and was extremely thin and stood awkwardly almost always, and wore glasses like me. The last person was Estella. She told us she didn't care if we called her she or he or they, and her hair was red too, but it was closer to my hair color than, our boss, Kristen's because it was more of a bottle red.

"Alright people, you do realize that Pete's the only one working out there, right? Mikey, I want you on the other register so that Pete doesn't have to do it alone! Charlie, standby on locating! People have trouble findin' their shit! It's dark in here!" Kristen half-yelled, pointing at the doorway. Mikey and Charlie scrambled out and took their places.

"D'ya need anybody on stock? I'm hell'a bored." Jared said, and ran his fingers through the side of his head that wasn't bald. Estella nodded. "Yeah, I mean, Jare' and I can do it if you want—"

Kristen cut off Estella's sentence, and I just watched them converse. "I was getting to that," She started, "I want Jared and Patrick on stock. I was just speaking to him about how there's more to do than sit in the corner and sort out guitar picks that were meant to be random in the first place." I bit my lip and turned my head. "I know, I'm sorry about that, by the way..." Estella said. She was the one who told me that was all there was to do. 

"It's fine, just– go out with the others, you can make sure nobody's stealing anything." She said, and out went Estella. "Now." Kristen started. "I want you, to teach Patrick how to restock the shelves, okay? Then after he has it down I want you to take inventory." 

Jared nodded and stood up off the couch, and walked towards me. I watched Kristen tuck the pen she had in her hand behind her ear, and place down her dark purple clipboard on one of the tables. "C'mon, 'lil bro." Jared said, grabbing my arm and tugging me out of the room. His grip was rather tight, but I don't believe he meant it. 

I was puzzled with the amount of people referring to me as if I were a child. From what I'd observed, I was more of a mature adult than most of the people I had met. They talked improperly and had no manners, they said rude things to people they called their friends and never wore nice clothes. 

I felt rather...out of place at my job. Everyone who worked there and walked in was normally dressed in mostly black and wore crazy colors in their hair. Most of them were people that you had to look closely at to tell if they were male or female, and most of the time not even then. Tight cotton shirts and even tighter pants, sometimes with a jacket made of leather or an abundance of chains and studs decorating the outfit was normally what their clothing consisted of. They wore tennis shoes or shiny black boots with laces. Both the boys and girls wore dark makeup and nail polish and a good amount had tattoos like Pete.

I, however, dressed in button-ups and baggy jeans and never wore makeup. I didn't paint my nails or my hair and I didn't dare get close to a tattoo gun for fear of needles and being damned to hell for cutting up my skin. I wasn't extremely thin (although I was pale) like most of them. I didn't wear black clothes. My only pair of shoes were a pair of muddy steeltoes that I had for most of my life, but I had left them at home because of the night I left barefoot, and had to borrow a pair of Joe's slip-on 'Vans'  brand shoes. 

I didn't fit in and I got rather odd looks from most of the people, but I kept working nonetheless; I had no idea how to use money but Pete said we needed it, and I had to trust Pete. 

Jared lead me to the storage room and pulled out a few boxes, then handed me one, stacking another on top of the first. He held three the same way, and we carefully walked back out to the front. "Alright, Patrick, I want you to look around; look at all the shelves and displays. If you see any places that aren't full of the things they're suppose to be displaying, dig through the boxes and try to find the thing that goes there, and fill it up. If something isn't in the boxes, tell me, okay? Sound simple enough?"

I frowned at the fact that almost everyone spoke to me like a child, but nodded anyway. "Alright, I'll help you for a little bit then we'll let you do it on your own." He said, and I followed him over to a display with cotton shirts that were almost empty. He pointed at one while he stood by the other. "See the logo there? Dig through and look for a stack of shirts with that on them, and put them in there." He instructed me. I nodded, ignoring Pete and Mikey's eyes that were staring at me from the center of the cubicle. 

I did as told, and found the stack of shirts covered in roses and the words 'Pierce the Veil' in a fancy font. I began to place them in the little slot that had the same logo underneath it, and Jared started a conversation while we spoke. 

"Y'know, they're sayin' you're mental. I don't believe 'em." He said as he piled a bunch of shirts into the slot that displayed a lady touching tongues with a king cobra. I raised my head. "Beg your pardon?" Jared turned to me and positioned to where he was squatting with his arm resting on the bend of his knee. "Estella and Kristen all think you're mental. I don't think you're mental. Pretty sure Mikey doesn't."

"I– mental?" I repeated. "Mental." Jared started. "Pete did say you were different but they just assumed you're Special Needs or some shit. I don't think that's what he meant. Maybe from another place or somethin'. Hell, you could be a time traveler for all I know, but I do know ya' aren't retarded." He said. He continued to place the shirts in their cubby and I did the same. "You're a lot smarter than everyone gives you credit for, Patrick." Jared added.

I looked at him oddly for a minute before I even went at the same pace as I had been moments ago. "Uh– Thank you. I-I'm not Special Needs, I j-just came from somewhere else, I'm n-not use to a lot of stuff..." I trailed off, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. "I knew it! Must get annoying, huh? Everybody treatin' you like a five-year-old constantly." Asked Jared. I nodded.

"Yeah, but it's kinda worth it I guess, not many people know about where I'm from and I'd very much like to keep it that way." I told him as I began to dig through for more shirts of a different logo that consisted of two 'b's connected by a 'v' in the middle. I could still notice Mikey and Pete staring at us while we worked, and Charlie and Estella would look at us every once in a while. "F'it makes you feel any better, I think of you as a normal human being. You actually seem pretty cool. I'd wanna hang with ya' sometime."

"I-I..." My face broke out into a smile, and I looked back at Pete for a second to see him roll his eyes at us, "S-Sounds cool."

"Nice. After we finish up with all this shit, I'll give ya' my phone number and we can like, arrange meetin' up or somethin'."

"Cool."


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gone and I haven't given up I just forget to publish the chapters sometimes

I peeked my head over the top of what I learned was the checkout counter. "–The hell?!" Mikey half-shouted when he noticed, and I grabbed his arm and pulled him down to shush him. Pete soon took notice as well, and furrowed his eyebrows and mouthed the word 'what?'. I put a finger to my lips and continued to stare forward. 

Pete and Mikey turned their gazes towards the woman – or, very feminine man in makeup – on the other side of the store that mine was fixed upon. Mikey only narrowed his eyes even more and tried to understand what I was staring at, while Pete rolled his eyes and slammed his hand down on the counter, and from what I could tell, he did so a little harder than intended, as he jumped a little afterwards. 

"Patrick, get up." Pete groaned. I shook my head fast and continued to stare at the person. "Patrick the thing on her shoulders isn't alive. It's not even a real animal. Its just a piece of fabric some people wear!" He said, grabbing me gently by the upper arm and pulling me up, thus bringing Mikey up with me because I still had a tight grip on him. I looked at him. "Pete, there is a frickin' coyote on that poor person! Does she even know its there?!" I asked, slightly angry that he had interrupted me.

"Yes, she does know its there, and she put it there on purpose! It's not even a coyote! It's not alive and it never was!" Pete exclaimed. "B-But it's right on top of her, and it has a tail and everyth–" Mikey cut me off just as I was about to finish the sentence of my argument. "He's right, Patrick. It's not alive, she put it there because she thought it was warm and thought it looked cool. People sew those things out of fake fur. See?" He said, and pulled out an iPhone similar to the one that Pete had given me, and on the screen was a photo of a limp, white, ragdoll-like fox over a woman's shoulders. 

I narrowed my eyes. 

"But– But why?" Pete and Mikey sighed somewhat in unison, and simply went back to their work, leaving me confused. 

-

"Alright, Pattywhack, wanna hang at my place since work's over?" I heard Jared ask from behind me. I jumped a little at the sudden noise and I almost dropped the box of Funko brand figurines that, quite frankly, all looked like the same person dressed in a different costume. Then again, that may have been the point, I didn't really know much about how bartering worked in the modern world, let alone the products. 

I went to nod, but my gaze shifted to Pete across the room, who was staring at us like he had been earlier while Mikey picked up a few boxes of cotton jumpers and put them in a stack. Charlie and Estella had already left, and Kristen was simply waiting for us to stop mucking around so she could close up shop. 

"I-I, uh..." Jared looked at me in a way that seemed as if he was trying to use ESP to push me to finishing my sentence. "I dunno, I-I'll have to ask Pete—" He rolled his eyes and cut me off. "I completely understand. I mean, after all, don't wanna make your boyfriend mad, right?" He cackled, and my face heated in a deep blush.

"Pete's not my boyfriend! I'm betrothed! Suited!" I said, and he rolled his eyes. "Its 2017, kid. My uncles just got married last week. Charlie's cousin her wife walked down the aisle in tuxedo dresses. Who says you aren't betrothed to Pete?" Jared said, and my eyes widened, but he kept speaking before I could comment on it, "Besides, stop talkin' like you're from 17th century Britain. Again, it's 2017. You're really far behind." He patted my back and nodded his head towards Pete, who was still staring, to signal for me to go ask.

I blushed and place down the box of cotton jumpers, and approached Pete slowly. "P-Pete? S'it okay if Jared takes me to his house? I w-wanted to ask you first because I really don't know what's safe and what's not..." I trailed off, shameful of my ignorance to the new world. "Whatever." Pete replied, and my head shot up almost immediately to catch him turning and walking with a look on his face that looked more bitter than it should have. 

"I-I guess it's fine, then..." I whispered to myself, and watched Pete walk over to Mikey and Kristen, who were counting the money in the register before I walked back over to Jared. "He looked pissed as fuck." Jared commented, and I bit my lip. 

"B-But he says it's okay, so I can go.."

Jared lead me out to a bunch of big metal heaps, and my eyes went wide at the sight. "What's that thing?" I asked him, and he rolled his eyes. "Don't make me take back what I said about you. Get in." He said, and pulled a lever on the side, which made the metal disconnect like a door. I stood there for a minute, and he threw his hands up. "C'mon, we don't got all day!" He exclaimed. He gestured over to the leather seat next to him and I hurriedly rushed to the righthand side of the metal heap and searched for a lever like Jared had used, and did the same thing he did.

"Goddamn, you're like a fucking time traveler or something." He stated, and I could find the annoyance in his voice. I blushed. "I-I...kinda." 

He snorted. "No really, where are you from, kid?" Jared asked, and I looked down. "I was kinda told not to tell anybody—" Jared interrupted again. "C'mon man, I'm bringing you, an obviously non-satanist, into my home, probably gonna let you smoke some of my weed. I wanna know. Please?" He said, dragging out the long 'e' sound as he started at me through the mirror fixated above the glass in the front of the heap.

It was silent for a good few moments before I gave in. "Tamsworth." I whispered meekly. Jared scoffed. "Yeah right, tell me where you're really from, dude." He said, and pulled out a paper packet with a bunch of white sticks inside of it. "I just did..." I said. I was slightly offended.

"Sure you are. That place like, doesn't exist, man. You're not very convincing." Jared said. "I-I am, my grandparents are James and Patricia Galigil. M-My mom was called Isabel Cara..." I started. "I-I...I left."

"Alright, kiddo. What's your dad's name?"

My breathing stopped and I knew my face drained of all the reddish color when it suddenly became cold in the metal heap. "I— c-can we not talk about this?" I whispered quietly and my eyes filled with tears. Jared seemed to notice and he moved one hand off the big ring he had been holding onto to rub my shoulder. "I'm sorry, dude. Tough subject? I didn't know, we don't have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable." He said, and it was the sweetest thing I'd heard him say since I met him. 

"Thank you." I whispered.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

I giggled madly and pressed my thumb onto the screen of the iPhone I still had, over the contact name 'Pete', which the respective person taught me to do when I would rather speak with my voice over the distance over typing it out slowly like I always did. 

He answered, voice sounding monotone and uninterested. "Yeah?" He asked, and I could only imagine the look on his face. "Petey," I giggled, and dragged out the word, "Come pick me up! Wanna come home!" His voice suddenly went concerned at my own tone. "Patrick? You sound drunk as fuck, what the hell?" 

I giggled again. "Dummy! I haven't drank nothin' today at all, not even water, but I have ate!" I exclaimed with big eyes. I heard a sigh from the speaker on the phone. Jared came up behind me and laid down on top of my back, as I was laying on my stomach on his family sofa. "Patrick, what'd you eat?" Pete asked, and his voice cracked. 

"Ah'Made cookies." Jared muttered, and Pete groaned. "Are you fucking kidding me?" He asked, making me giggle again. "Don't be jealous, Pete! I saved you one! They're good!" I said, almost teasingly. "Fucking— I'm coming to get you. Now. Where does Jared live?" 

I looked at Jared, and he spoke slowly into the phone. "Lang...land?" 

It came out like more of a question and Pete was evidently upset. "Shut up, asshat! I'm just gonna look for your car! Patrick, I'll be there as soon as I can!"

I heard the phone beep and I giggled when it went dead. "Jared," I drug out another name and he looked at me with half-lidded eyes, "Pete's so gay." Jared laughed and sounded a little like a chipmunk compared to his normal deep and slightly malicious laugh. "Yeah, that's obvious, man. M'hungry." He replied, and stood up off my back. "Bring me food!" I whined, and he laughed again. "Okie dokie artichoke-y!" He exclaimed back, and I giggled madly. 

As we sat on the couch eating the toast that he had made for us that was less like toast and more like warm bread due to him having baked it in his microwave oven, it was almost as if we both all of a sudden absorbed some kind of gene from the bread that turned us extremely philosophical — and confused at the same time.

"Yo, yo Patty, yo Nick-nack Pattywhack, yo Pancakes," Jared called. I looked at him. I made a noise of confusion. He continued. 

"What – Okay, so, if we all evolved from monkeys, okay? Why— why do monkeys still exist?" He asked me, and my eyes went wide. "I didn't even know we were monkeys before." I told him, amazed as I chewed on my warm bread. "Why's there a 'd' in 'fridge' but not in 'refrigerator'?" He started up, and I blinked at him. "What's a refrigerator?" I asked, causing him to burst out laughing. 

Just then the doorknob that lead to the living space jiggled, and the both of us turned our attention to the noise. "Yo, Pat-a-tat, what's that?" He asked. I shrugged. "I dunno, maybe it's a spooky ghost." Jared turned to me with a genuine look of fright, and the door slammed open to reveal Pete, holing a small piece of wire in his hand and a look of malcontent on his face. "Petri!" I exclaimed, hopping up to run to him and wrap my arms around his neck. Jared laughed and turned over on the couch so that he was on his back.

"I missed you so much, Teepee!" Pete groaned, and grabbed me, pulling me out the door. I waved to Jared as he dragged me away, and he waved back. As he closed the door, I buried myself in Pete's neck. "I love you so much, Teepee." I giggled, and Pete sighed. "I love you too, Patrick, come on, we gotta see if we can hitch a ride because I'm not dragging you around like this."

I ignored his statement and played with his hair. "You're so pretty, Petri. You have pretty skin." I mused, causing many people on the street to look at us. "Patrick, come on now. You gotta get like, magically sober or something. You're annoying as fuck when you're high." He grunted, and I tried to move my feet along with him dragging me but they felt like they were floating.

"But you are! I also really like your eyes, they're pretty, and your hair's pretty. Your tattoos are really pretty. You're just so pretty, Peewee." I rambled. He sighed. "I'd be flattered if you weren't stoned right now." Pete said.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

"Treepee," I whined, reaching for Pete as he walked by the sofa. "What now, Patrick?" He sighed, and placed down the plate of sandwiches he had been carrying onto the coffee table in front of me. I looked up at him with big glassy eyes. "Are you mad't me, Kiwi?" I asked him. My eyes watered up and my lip quivered as I stared up at him, waiting for an answer for the longest time. "Yes." He stated and crossed his arms, then turned to walk into the sleep area. 

I whined again and grabbed his hand before he could get away. "Please don't go. I'm sorry Peewee. I didn't mean to make you mad." I whimpered. Pete looked down at me and sighed again. "Well, you still did. Patrick, you ran off with some dude we've both known for like a week, and-" I cut him off, "We've known eachother for like a week..." Tears began to fall down my cheeks and Pete grunted.

"Let me finish, Patrick. You ran off with some dude we've both known for like a week, and got high, and you're still high, and for all we know he could have been trying to like - fuckin' date rape you or something, Patrick! Yes, you've made me mad! You need to be more careful than that!" He lectured, and he sounded stern although I could hear his voice breaking every few words. "M'sorry..." I muttered. Pete sighed.

He sat down on the couch next to me and moved so that he was laying down like I was, and wrapped his arms around me. "I know, Patrick." Was all that he said, and I hugged his torso, burying my face in his shirt. "I d-didn't mean to, I don't even know what high is! Please don't be mad, Dimitri!" I exclaimed, voice crackling with the obvious upset state that had rubbed off on me. 

It was quiet for a while, a little silence that was only there because I didn't know what to say and I assumed that Pete didn't either, and Joe was at his herb-work, so he was unable to do so either. Pete was petting my hair and I was just crying quietly into his shirt. I had no idea why I was so emotional, all I had done was eat some cookies, I didn't know what the big fuss was over it all. After the few minutes of quiet, I had calmed down a little bit and Pete would shush me every time I sobbed or hiccupped or sniffled.

"Have you been- have you been trying to say 'Petey' this whole time?" He asked out of the blue, and I looked up at him to see his face riddled with confusion, and I sniffed. "S'what I have been saying." I told him in the tone that your grandmother uses in any sentence that starts with the words 'as a matter of fact'. "Whatever you say, 'Trick." He sighed, and I looked at him confusedly. "Exactly Treetree, it's what I said. Duh." I rambled to him. Pete just continued to pet my hair.

"I really hope your trip wears off soon, because damn, you make no fuckin' sense." He said. I rolled my eyes. "You sense what the do." I said before I stuck my tongue out at him. "What?" He furrowed his eyebrows and did the same. "...What?" I repeated. Pete sighed. "I can probably figure out what drug he put in you. What's different about what stuff feels like now than what you felt like before you ate the cookie? Do you see stuff? Feel weird? Just explain everything." He said, and I groaned.

"Too tired to deal with you," I grumbled, snuggling into his shirt, "Ask the brown mop, he probably knows." Pete sighed. "What mop?" He asked. I curled into him more. "The one that just walked through the door. Don't be so oblivious, Tea Tree." I muttered. Pete furrowed his eyebrows and looked behind him to see Joe - or, at the time to me, the brown mop - closing the front door. 

"Hey Joe." Pete greeted, not ceasing the petting my hair thing. "Hey, wa'sup with him?" Joe asked, and his heavy boots making it so that I could hear him when he walked over and sat down beside the couch, and then I felt him rub my side a little bit along with Pete still running his fingers through my hair. "He's high. I think it's just weed but I could be wrong." Pete said, and Joe made a noise of understanding. "We really shouldn't baby him like this, should we?" He asked Joe, and I felt the rubbing on my side cease for a moment. 

"Not really, but it's fun." I heard Joe say, and right after Pete muttered out an 'Agreed'.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

"Wha'cha drawin'?" Pete asked, leaning over my shoulder and resting his chin there. "Nothin'." I muttered back sleepily. He slipped his arms underneath mine so he could wrap them around my waist and pull me a little closer to him. I hummed a little bit from my position on the floor in front of him, and leaned my head back slightly as I scribbled on the scrap notebook paper with a pen that I found. 

"Is that – Is that me?" Pete laughed, and I grumbled. "S'your eyes, Meat-treat." I muttered, and he snorted at the fact that even at this point I still couldn't remember his name. "How long have you even been high?" He asked, and my head lulled back onto his chest as I pushed my knees up closer to mine. "Six." I said simply. He sighed quietly just as Joe entered the room again. "He's never even taken any kind of prescription before, Pete, weed's probably hit him hard." I felt him pat my head then I heard a thump!, along with the squeak of the sofa's springs.

"Think he's gonna go through the rush soon?" 

Joe made a grunting noise of uncertainty at Pete's question, and I rubbed my face against Pete's chest. "Might not eveb have one. Not everybody does." Joe said.  "'Trick, c'mon now, you're not a cat, I told you this already." Pete laughed out, making me grumble once again. "Mop, get your hair outta my face." I whimpered slightly helplessly, and rubbed my nose, never opening my eyes. "That's not me." Joe replied, and Pete started petting my hair.

"I hope he does get the rush soon, that way it'll almost be over." Pete commented. Joe let out another grunt, this time one of agreement as I clung to Pete's shirt tightly. "How long does a weed high last?" 

Joe hummed a little and there was a somewhat soothing silence throughout the room before he spoke up. "From what I've seen and how sensitive you are it can last any time from about ten minutes to twenty hours. Longer's more common f'you eat it and don't smoke it." He said, and Pete and I both groaned. Pete leaned down to kiss my head and I knew it was Joe who started to massage my scalp with his fingers because Pete was already petting me.

"I don't think it'll hold out too long, though. If we're lucky." 

My pen and scrap paper were soon discarded on the floor and I somehow got to where I was in a fetal position in front of Pete between the coffee table and the sofa, with Joe rubbing my shoulder and Pete still petting my hair. It was relaxing and quiet again, until I suddenly went from mopey and tired to more energetic than I had ever been in my life. I had the urge to tap my foot out of the blue and it felt as if all my muscles were jumping at once.

My skin was also crawling and my neck was extremely tight, and my head shot up so fast that I nearly hit Pete in the nose with my skull. He moved fast enough for me not to but I still sat there with my foot tapping and breath heaving, staring him in the eyes as he stared back with an almost terrified look.

"Rush." Joe said, and Pete nodded the best he could without breaking our gaze. "He's fallin' off." Pete said back. Somehow my breath got quicker than it already was and I scrambled out of my spot on the floor, running to wherever my feet took me. Apparently my feet decided to take me in a circle, and I ended up running two laps around the room in a matter of five minutes at the very most, Joe and Pete watching confusedly.

"Rush's bad." Joe stated.

"Rush's real bad." Pete agreed. 

I felt like I was going much faster than I actually was. My heart felt like it was beating like a hummingbird in my chest and everything looked like a blur as I turned my direction so that I was headed towards the couch and jumped on top of Pete. They both let out a sort-of shriek out of shock, and Pete landed so that his head was in Joe's lap, and I was on top of him.

Before any of us knew what was happening, I grabbed Pete's face, all buggy-dry-eyed, and kissed him hard, the gesture not really lasting long enough for it to process in anyone's mind. I jumped up again and plopped myself back onto the floor, and laid there motionless as I quickly reverted back to my tired state. 

"Are you sure he didn't fucking feed him Crystal or some fucking shit? Yeah, you can get rushes from kush, but it's usually like – fucking, a shitload of stupid questions that sound smart just waterfalling out! That's not fuckin' weed, man!" Pete half-shouted after a few minutes, having asked Joe what it could have been based on my side effects earlier. "Nope." Joe replied, in a quieter tone, "Probably isn't Crystal, 'cuz he'd'a been like that the whole time, I don't know what the hell that was. Take him to bed just in case. M'gonna fix him an ice pack." 

Joe stood up and walked away from what I knew by the sound of his boots against the floor, and Pete picked me up off the ground before I knew he had even gotten up, and held me somewhat like a baby. I twisted around in his arms until I could bury my face in his shirt and he carried me to our room. After he pulled the bedding back with what felt like a lot of struggle, he laid me down, then pulled them back up over me. He placed the back of his hand on my forehead for a couple seconds, then sat down at the foot of the bed, and rubbed my lower leg gently.

"I'm gonna kill that motherfucker." Pete threatened under his breath as I curled up in the sheets and hugged Pete's pillow to my chest. Joe came walking in with a silver book sitting flat in one elevated hand, and a mop bucket in the other. He was slightly distracted as he had been looking at the glowing part of the book. 

"I looked up his symptoms, it says it's like, some kind of weird mineral shit? I don't know, I've never heard of it before, but it looks like...like if you poured highlighter fluid into a bowl full of cocaine." Joe said, and placed the silver book on his bed, then put the mop bucket beside mine and Pete's and put a cold bag of ice on my forehead that he had been carrying in it. "It says he might puke so if he starts heaving hand him that bucket." 

He went to his side of the room and continued to stare at the silver book while Pete looked at me with soft eyes. "Highlighter cocaine? What even— What's it called?" He questioned, and Joe frantically tapped his fingers onto the part of the book that was against the bed. "Hoe, you're holdin' that book wrong." I commented, and Pete snorted.

"I know, Patrick. Try and go to sleep, okay? The website says you need some rest." I nodded unconsciously and Pete leaned over and kissed my hand. "It's called— Crudilia? I-I've never heard of it, some people call it Phet apparently, but it seems like a really big thing." 

"I haven't either. But it says he needs rest, doesn't it? I hope he can sleep it away..." Pete said, voice cracking slightly. "So do I." Joe affirmed as Pete lifted my hand and kissed it softly. I grunted a little and squeezed my eyes shut. 

"Wanna know one thing that would've been cool to see while he was high, though?"

"What?"

"Watching him listen to Bohemian Rhapsody."


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Pete interlocked his fingers with mine as we went back into what I was told was the lobby of the apartment building that we were now living in.

I heard a quiet sigh from the desk that we had to pass by, and turned to see Marie, smiling while resting her chin in her hands. "You two are so cute," She started, "It's like, you two are that cliché highschool couple from a teen novel. Except, it's two guys instead of a guy and a girl."

I blushed hard, curling my toes in my shoes and wishing I didn't have to wear them so that I could feel the slip of fuzzy fabric against my feet once again. "I-I'm engaged actually, Pete and I aren't—" Pete cut off my sentence, or finished it for me, rather. "We're not together. Patrick just needs to be protected." He said, hopefully clarifying it for Marie that he and I weren't nearly courting.

The woman hummed, a small smirk on her face as she adjusted her vest and went back to sorting through papers on her desk. I felt Pete pull my hand a little, as a sign to keep walking, and I jumped a little bit at the realization that we were to leave now. He saw me looking at my shoes as we left the building, and he laughed a little bit. "You really like the rug, huh?" Pete asked, and I nodded.

"I'll see if we can get one for the apartment today. We're shopping anyway." He said, and I smiled wide. "Have you really not seen a rug before, 'Trick?" I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I have, but never actually...stepped on one. Barefoot, that is." I told him, digging my nails into his hand as we left the gray building that held our apartment. He rolled his eyes at me, and we walked down the long, narrow slab, the same color as the apartment building, alongside a black one with yellow lines that was a little thicker. 

People seemed to have been doing the same. As a matter of fact, there were people everywhere. Each way I turned my head, there wasn't a single spot that hadn't been occupied by at least two people. It was extremely uplifting, despite the overwhelming feeling that I also got due to the lack of such a thing back home. I thought there were a lot of people in our village, but looking at the one where Pete and I were staying, there had to be at least hundreds.

"You still feelin' that stuff?" Pete asked, and I quickly turned to look at him. "Oh, no, I just– There's so many people here... So many buildings. It's odd, to me." I assured him, and he nodded. "Alright. I believe you, 'Trick. Promise me that if you feel weird in any way, though, that you'll tell me. Even if it's, like... Good weird. Y'know? Like, if you feel different than you normally do. You have to let me know." He warned me, and I nodded. "I will, Pete." He smiled at me.

"Good."

Our walk was silent, for a good while, if you didn't count the ambience of the place in which we were actually walking. People would look our way, and I would wave at them, even if I had never seen them before, and they would smile and wave back while Pete sighed and pulled me closer to him by my hand every time. I didn't understand how he kept doing it, as he pulled me directly by his side every time. 

"We're here." He called after a while, then stopped in front of a big, blue building with a yellow flower-type symbol on the side. "What do we do here?" I asked, and Pete led me inside. "We're getting groceries." He replied. I nodded for what felt like the millionth time that day even though I knew it wasn't nearly that much. 

When we entered the building, a cool air hit my face, and I sighed at the feeling, which made Pete look at me with an extremely confused, and amused, look on his face. "Alright then." He said for no reason as we walked over to a section filled with large, metal baskets with wheels. "What's that do?" I asked him, and he sighed. "You walk by food, you see if you can afford the food, you grab the most affordable food, you stick it in the buggy." He explained to me. 

"Sounds easy enough." I said. He nodded. "It is. Except, you can leave that part to me. You just follow. Maybe grab stuff if I ask. We gotta take a day or so to teach you how cash works soon." 

"M'kay."


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Pretty soon, I had wandered off.

I don't know how, and I don't know why. I just ended up somehow down an aisle with two shelves full of tiny plastic replicas of larger things. There were guns, animals, humans; I was taking it all in as I slowly roamed the long aisle of tiny figures. When I glanced to my left I saw a little group of dolls all encased in plastic, and it reminded me of the old ones Isabel and Marcela had in both of their bedrooms. Except, those dolls didn't have fangs or wolf-like ears like these did.

Soon, as I followed the trail of toys, I came across a part that held a tiny, plastic guitar that looked like my grandfather's. Near it was a little board, of the same material, covered in white and black lines. 

"What's this suppose to..." I whispered to myself, trailing off as I ran my fingers across the white lines, leaving the black ones untouched. I pressed down a little harder than intended, and a bell-like noise emitted from the board. It made me jump, and out of curiosity, I did it again. 

As I was messing with it I found that pressing different sections of color created different sounds. "Woah..." I muttered, pressing a few of them in order. I soon became mesmerized by the sound, and slowly my attention faded away from anything but the small board.

"Patrick!" I heard someone shout, and I jumped. My eyes went big as I turned around to the location of the voice and saw Pete running towards me with the basket on wheels that he had grabbed when we entered the building. "The hell were you?!" He asked, breathless. I turned my head back in the direction of the shelf the thing I was messing with had been sitting.

"I found stuff..." I answered, and he sighed. "You like instruments, 'Trick?" He asked another question, and I nodded. "My grandpa had an old guitar that me and Marcela tried to teach each other to play." I told him. Pete rolled his eyes.

"Did either of you actually know how to play guitar?" I thought about it for a second, and shook my head. "I still don't know what the strings do." I replied truthfully, and Pete laughed. "Joe plays guitar in his free time I think, I play bass. You should remind me one day and I'll try and teach you." He offered as he patted my shoulder. I didn't know if he saw, but my eyes lit up with excitement.

"You seem to like piano too. Probably can't get an actual keyboard but one day you might have one of those motherfuckers in your possession." Pete snorted, nodding towards the colorful toy and grabbing my hand so I didn't get lost again.

I noticed that the buggy-cart was no longer empty, and it held a few foods wrapped in plastic. Bread, meats, vegetables, and fruits, plus a little carton that read ice cream on top. Pete saw me staring at the contents in the buggy and started speaking again.

"Do you like — not know what ice cream is?" He asked, face twisting into one that reminded me of all the times that my aunts forced one of my cousins to eat cabbage. "Oh, yeah, my grandma use to make it during the winter when it snowed; Speaking of, there's no snow, how did whoever made that...make that?" I said. I got a little tongue-twisted and ended up stuttering a couple times. 

Pete's eyes widened. "Dude, you guys made ice cream with snow?" I nodded, and he gasped. "That's fucking rad." He said. I nodded, and we approached a section of the building with a lot of tables that had people standing behind it, almost like Marie's position at the apartment building's front desk. 

"Alright, you stand here," Pete stated while pushing me slightly towards the shelf at the edge of one of the tables, "Don't touch anything, don't move, I'm gonna pay for this stuff, and then we can leave." I nodded, folding my hands in front of me and staring down at the floor. 

While I was waiting a lady walked up behind Pete, pushing the same kind of cart in front of her as he was, and I smiled and waved. She smiled back, and the one on my own face became wider as she turned her head to pay attention and move forward along with Pete. The woman who was standing behind the table and running everything that Pete had put in his buggy across a shiny black square looked at me, and I smiled and waved at her like I did the other lady. 

She smiled and waved back, then turned to Pete to say something. He handed her a group of green slips, and put it all into a box before giving some of them back, along with what I had recognized to be coins on top. She helped Pete put some bags back into the buggy, and he called me over. 

"Excuse me," I said as I slipped past the lady behind Pete, and walked up to him.

"She said we could take the buggy to the apartment with us 'cause we don't have a car," He said, leading me out of the building. "Thank you!" I shouted before the woman at the table was out of sight. I heard her laugh.

Someone at the door of the building took a white slip of paper from Pete's hand and wrote on it before we left, and then we went out the big glass door.

"What was that again?" I asked him as he pushed the cart up the cement slab that we had walked there on. "We were shopping, Patrick. Shopping buys you food to keep you alive." He said with a sigh. I nodded.

"Shopping's fun."


	21. Chapter Twenty

I walked up the corridor of the apartment, walking into the restroom and blushing when I saw Pete already in front of the sink. I just kind of stood there, unsure of what to do since he wasn't naked but then again, he was still there.

"What'cha doin' there, 'Trick?" He asked, chuckling as he pressed his thick hair between two metal plates, running them down the strands. "I-I, uh, I was gonna brush my teeth but looks like you're using it, so I'll wait..." I said, dropping my hands down in front of me. "Nah, it's cool dude, I can scoot over, see?" He replied, moving about a foot to the side, and I nodded.

"Thank you." 

I walked up to the sink and turned the water on like Pete had showed me, and put some toothpaste from the counter onto my toothbrush. Pete continued to press his hair with the metal plates over and over again. "What're you doing?" I asked, growing more and more wary of the way his hair sounded as if it were sizzling when he did it.

"I'm making my hair straight." He said, and I spit out the toothpaste in my mouth before I spoke again. "But your hair's always straight." I acknowledged. He nodded.

"Yeah, because I straighten it every day." Pete said, clicking a button on the base of the metal plates and setting it down. "I'm black, Patrick, there's absolutely no way my hair's gonna be straight naturally." My eyes widened.

"You don't look—"

"I already know, I've heard it countless times, 'Trick." 

He laughed, and dug around in a bag that was sitting beside the plates, and pulled out a black stick. I ran the water again and put my toothbrush underneath it. 

Pete leaned in to the mirror, and started rubbing the black stick underneath his eyes.

"S'that charcoal?" I asked, taking off my glasses to clean them with my shirt. "Kinda, its more of like, a pomade. Like a really soft crayon." He told me slowly, as if he were concentrating. I nodded. "Marcela, Isabel, their Mamas and pretty much every girl in the village rub charcoal on their eyes. They also take the roses from my Grandmother's garden and rub them on their cheeks and eyes, and crush up different flowers with flour and put it on their faces." I told him.

He nodded. "That sounds cool as hell. I'm gonna try that one day." Pete said as he put the black stick back into the bag, then pulled out a little circle. He unscrewed it and prodded at the greyish powder inside then started patting it on his eyelids. "Like that!" I exclaimed, and he laughed. 

"I am no stranger to makeup, Patrick Martin." He said, a smirk on his face. "How did you know my second name is Martin?" I asked, voice sounding a little hoarse at what he had said. Pete laughed again.

"'Cause I'm smart as fuck."

"No, I'm just kidding," He said, "You just look like a Patrick Martin." I nodded, and picked up my toothbrush. "I'm just gonna– go and put this away... Don't we have to work today?" I said, stopping before I walked out the door. 

"No, 'Trick, not today. I was gonna have Andy over to meet Joe and you while his parents are at their work. Maybe Marie up to the apartment to hang with us, too." Pete told me, so I nodded. 

"Can I ask you one last question?" 

Pete nodded, screwing the clear lid back onto the circle and sorting through the items in the little baggy, all of them clanking together like a mess of vintage glass bottles in a storage box.

I almost asked him about the conversation he'd had with Joe about the information that they'd found on the sideways book. About them calling me the high one when Joe was, once again, attempting to read a book sideways. I wanted so badly too, but I also slowly came to realize that it could be a bad decision, considering I didn't want to seem idiotic or make a fool of myself any more than I already had.

Pete could tell that I was hesitating, and I myself could tell that he could tell. I just stood there blankly, rummaging around in the toy chest of my mind to try and find something to say in that moment. I was so overwhelmed by a simple facial expression that, while I had watched my grandfather slaughter multiple animals and have come face to face with many predators of the wild, I was almost brought to tears by the look on Pete's face. 

"'Trick, buddy, are you okay?" Pete asked, furrowing his eyebrows, "Spit it out, c'mon."

In an attempt at haste, I thought about how nice the Charcoal on Pete's face made him look. How it made his skin look a little paler, only matched by his hair, that gave an even more dramatic contrast. The way it gave the illusion that his eyes were more of a gray than his true brown at first glance. It looked incredibly beautiful, in a way. I ended up saying the first thing that came to mind after the observation. 

"Would you do me?" I asked, breaking the near-six-minute silence and cringing as if it was taboo to do so at that point. Pete looked kind of taken aback and opened his mouth, then took a deep breath before he spoke. 

"I dunno, 'Trick, that's a little hasty— I mean, I don't think you've ever even been with a girl before, experimenting is okay but it's normally best to try a chick before you move on to a guy. I mean, damn, you're cute as all hell and I'd totally be up for it if anything, but maybe, like, at least kiss a girl and make it even first." He said, and I looked at him confusedly.

"What?"

Pete looked back at me with the same expression, but it slowly changed.

"Oh– Oh! You wanted me to do your makeup! Forget that happened, shit!" Pete exclaimed frantically, and I laughed, nodding. "If that's what it is, then yes, I do." I replied. He laughed at himself, but I could see the blush on his cheeks, and he went back to digging in his bag.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

I sat Indian-Style on the floor of our bedroom, scribbling on a piece of paper that Pete had given to me as a distraction ten minutes prior. He and Joe had walked off and told me to stay in the bedroom, and they had grabbed a little silver dish with notches carved into the sides, off of one of the bedside tables. 

I looked down at the bit of paper that was scrapped from an old letter's envelope. It was nothing in particular; mostly just a mess of squiggly lines and doodles to the point that it was almost no longer white. 

I don't recall feeling down that day. Mostly scared. And bored. It was getting warmer and I knew that all of the predators would be roaming soon. Not to mention, we hadn't been to work in a couple days and I didn't know how to feel about that. 

I scribbled over a doodle of the boots of Joe's that I had been absentmindedly drawing. Just then, Joe walked into the room, and I looked up at him. He looked back down at me for a second and brought the rolled up and burned piece of paper away his lips. "You look good in wings. That with the red makes you look like Taylor Swift." He said, and I smiled a little bit as he walked over to his bed and pulled a shoe box out from underneath it.

"I don't know who that is." I reminded him. Joe nodded. "Cute girl but annoying and backstabbing as hell." Joe clarified, and I nodded. I only looked up at him, because I didn't know how to respond to that. I was unsure if he was calling me cute, annoying, or backstabbing, or all three. He seemed to understand. "I'm calling you cute, by the way. You're only annoying sometimes." I gave him a quiet thanks while he walked back out the door.

I went back to my doodling for a split second, but quickly decided that I didn't feel like doing so and laid on my back, on the floor. I was extremely unamused, but I wasn't one to disobey what I'm told. I mean, it wasn't my fault that I left with Pete; I couldn't help it that he was nice and I was just extremely attracted to him like a magnet on a bit of steel. Unsure of how or for what reason exactly, but compelled to stick to the other nonetheless.

Not to mention, he had basically kidnapped me. Basically.

I had nothing better to do, so I just laid there. Then, I eventually started thinking of home. My home. My home in the woods, with all the little villagers and everyone helping each other out. My best friend who always tried her best to make me smile. My beautiful fiancé who was going to make an amazing wife and mother someday.

It was the first time that I'd actually gotten to sit and think about it in a while. I missed Marcela and Isabel. I missed Amos, Jillian, and Fran. I missed my neighbors. I missed my grandfather. When I thought about my grandmother in the midst of it all. Unlike all of the rest, the first thing that came to mind when I thought of her was very far from how much I missed her.

But as I thought about it longer and longer, I began to feel guilty. She had raised me. She raised me and she treated me like I was her own child, and I disobeyed her. Children are to respect their parents and elders. It was my job to do what she asked for as long as possible. In my mind, I had disrespected her.

I had begun to cry quietly, and I wasn't far into that before the door opened again. Pete reeked of something earthy and musky all at once. It made me sniffle and wrinkle my nose. 

"Hey 'Trick, you can come out'ta the bedroom now, we're — Are you crying?" 

I looked up at Pete, who saw my face and sat down on the floor with me. "Don't cry, Patrick." He said, rubbing my back. "Why are you crying? What happened?" I shrugged and leaned against him. Pete mocked my actions, shrugging his shoulders overdramatically and making a noise. "Don't, " He paused to make the noise once again, "at me. You know what's wrong and I know that you know." 

I groaned at him. "He who does not sew his own seeds shall not reap that of another man." I told him, and he simply looked at me. Blankly. "Are you having sexuality issues or something?" He asked, and my eyes went wide. "No! It means to mind your own business!" I exclaimed, and Pete rolled his eyes.

"You know I can't do that, 'Trick. I am incapable. Come on, now. You're still crying. You're messing up the mascara." Pete said with a laugh, rubbing his thumbs on my cheeks, and I sniffled. I looked down at my lap and fiddled with my fingers. "I miss them, Pete. Is it bad that I miss them?" My voice came out shaky. Pete sighed and shook his head.

"It's not bad that you miss them, Patrick. That's normal. It's perfectly fine. You were raised around and by those people. It's like moving out, you know? You never miss your mom until you spend that first night at your own place. Well, unless you've had a really bad mom, but that's not my point—" I cut him off, as he'd been rambling.

"Thank you, Pete." I said, looking up at him and rubbing my nose.

"You're welcome, Patrick."


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

About a week had passed and I found out that Pete and I wouldn't be going back to work. He told me that we had spent too much time not going, and, even after he had tried to explain why, they didn't seem to like it very much. Therefore, once again, we had to search for a job. 

I was kind of upset about it. The people in the dark room were fairly nice, despite being intimidating. No one poked fun at me for my pale skin, unlike the people back home, as most of the people in the dark room had pale skin as well. Not to mention, everyone seemed to be mesmerized by my presence; they would ask me what "brand" I had used to dye my hair, and then get lost in the color when I told them that it was that color naturally. 

That, and I kind of missed Jared, although I didn't understand why Pete didn't want me around him anymore. 

I sat on the sofa in the family room, sharpening my grandfather's old pocket knife that I kept in the pocket of the trousers that I happened to wear that day. It was even in the pocket when they were washed; I just never took it out. 

Joe was sitting across the room, strumming a guitar like my grandfather's, except it was made of metal and connected by a wire to a large box next to him. It sounded choppy and quite loud, and there were screeching noises when he would move too much, but for some reason, I was mesmerized. It sounded horrendous, but beautiful all at once. 

Pete had left the room momentarily, and despite hhim flipping out earlier about losing our jobs, everything was strangely calm. It wasn't long, though, before Pete came back into the room, with a metal guitar and box made like Joe's. Pete's had an emblem of a bat in the shape of a heart on the body. 

I watched him as he pushed the metal prongs on one of the cords into the wall, then flip a switch on the front of the box. He sat down on the floor as well, and waited for a moment, listening to Joe's own strumming, then doing the same. 

His guitar made a lower, more smooth noise. It sounded lovely, to say the least. Pete's hands were moderately large, and you would expect his fingers to fumble around and ruin the sound, but they were extremely talented in quickly moving across each string. My eyes went wide as my attention was slowly drawn towards the two of them, and I placed the knife and stone block down on the table in front of the sofa.

The two of them sounded gorgeous when they played together. I rested my chin in my hand and smiled, closing my eyes and nodding along.

I heard Pete's laugh, and what I could only logically assume was Joe's alongside it, and I opened my eyes slightly.

"Enjoying yourself?" Joe asked, looking up from his guitar momentarily then back down. "It sounds beautiful." I said with a sigh. I saw Pete smile as he looked down. "It sounds shitty. Joe needs to get the aux port replaced. He fucked it up." Pete said teasingly. Joe rolled his eyes, and ignored him.

"If ya' like this, you'll really like it when Andy gets here. He's bringin' his kit, right?" 

Pete nodded. "Yeah. He's gotta lug it all the way up the stairs, though. Elevator's about as fucked as your aux." He said, and my eyes snapped open wider at the mention.

"I can help!" I exclaimed, and Pete stopped strumming, making me frown a small bit at the change of ambience. "You don't need to, 'Trick. He can probably do it himself. Andy's a strong guy." He told me, and I rolled my eyes. "I want to help." I said, and Pete sighed.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

I waited at the bottom of the stairway in the lobby. Digging my bare toes into the carpeted floor, I carried a conversation with Marie; She offered to aid us in carrying Andy's instruments up the stairs, but I declined. Gentlemen don't make women do the work. 

"Have you talked to your girl from back home lately?" She asked, and I looked up at her. "Which one? There are a lot of girls back home. Most of them are, actually." I replied. Marie made a sound that was like water bursting through it's source of confinement. I furrowed my eyebrows at her. "Damn, Patrick. A fuckin' player, this one." Marie said, leaning forward onto her desk, and moving the card that read her name in the process. 

She let out her cheerful and genuine laugh as I stared back at her with a blank face. It was always different around me alone than it was when she was around Joe or Pete at the same time as me. She laughed more loudly and throatily when she was around me. She stayed quiet and produced more of a low-volumed snicker around the others.

I heard a loud thud from somewhere upstairs, but that had become normal now. We weren't the only people to take housing in the building, and Pete and Joe always assured me that it was nothing, and prevented me from taking action no matter how much I wanted to check on the person who was experiencing trouble. 

This thud, wasn't one, loud bang! or crash! against the floor like it normally was. It sounded more as if someone was continuously banging their fists against the wall in a steady rhythm. 1...2...thud...1...2...thud... I frowned, and turned back to Marie from my position in which I'd began to look at the ceiling to find which part the noise was coming from. 

"Do you think they need help?" I asked her, making Marie shake her head. "They need help, just not from us. They need Jesus." 

The words had just left her painted red lips when the door to the lobby opened, and a man with hair the same as mine but a slightly brighter color than my own walked through the door, dragging a red wagon covered in a tarp behind him. 

"Pete live here?" Asked the man, and Marie nodded for me. "He's here to help you." She said, pointing her thumb at me, and the man nodded. He walked up to me, and extended his hand for me to shake. I took the offer. "Hi! I'm Patrick!" I told him with a smile, and the man smiled back. "I'm Andy." He said, "You here to help me lug this bullshit up the stairs?"

"Of course!" I said, and Andy nodded, pulling the tarp off of the wagon, to reveal a large set of shiny rings covered in skins. "This is gonna take awhile." He said, as he walked over to the wagon and picked up the first ring.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four

I squeezed my eyes shut tight as I plugged my ears with my fingers. I wanted to watch them use their instruments, as it was mesmerizing, but I couldn't, because every time Andy would hit one of the drums with a stick, the loud noise caused me to flinch and close my eyes, so I gave up on trying to keep them open.

The sound was extremely chaotic but melodic at the same time. The sound of the plug-in guitar, Pete's lower-pitched plug-in guitar, and Andy's multitude of drums together was something that hurt the ears, but in a good way. In the way that made you want to come back for more. 

It hurt the same way your hands would if you chopped wood for a long time and the handle of the ax had splinters. It stings and you get a headache from it at first, but eventually, when you go at it for a while, the pain becomes something that you want to last. Or, when you get a bruise, and you just keep touching it no matter how bad it is. Or you get a toothache and you keep pressing your tongue against the area. 

Picking a scab.

Pulling off the skin around your fingers.

Poking at a bruise.

Rubbing alcohol on a cut.

Chewing on your tongue or lips.

No matter how bad it hurts, you simply can't stop. It feels good, in a way. 

I peeked one eye open finally, only to have it impulsively snap shut once again at the booming sound of Andy's largest drum. I could faintly hear Joe's plug-in guitar squeal as if it were in pain over the thumping of the building, but I couldn't really hear Pete's. It must not have been helping that I was plugging my ears, but it would be too loud if I didn't.

It was about fifteen seconds later that the thumping stopped, and I opened my eyes, slowly taking my thumbs out of my ears. I saw Pete and Joe high-five each other, and Andy stand up from the stool he had so that he could do so as well. They seemed to ignore my presence for a moment, but I was okay with that. I was okay with just watching. 

"That was fucking sick, dude." Pete said. Joe nodded, and so did Andy. "It'll be even more sick if we can find someone to play second guitar." Said Andy, and again, the others nodded.

"Do you know anyone?" Joe asked, placing his guitar down against the big box that it was plugged into. Pete did the same with his own, and Andy put his two sticks on the skin of one of his drums. Andy shook his head. "Nope. Literally have no other friends. That are into music, anyways." He said, and Pete snorted like a pig. "Yeah, I forgot to tell Joe. All your friends are fuckin' geeks." 

Andy's expression turned into one of slight annoyance. "Are not! Just because we like reading and SciFi doesn't make us geeks!" He defended, and I looked around at them. "I like reading." I said. "See, Patrick's not a geek! That means my friends aren't!" Andy said, crossing his arms. Joe laughed under his breath and Pete made the same noise that Marie did earlier that day when I told her about all of the girls back home.

"Patrick's a geek for a different reason." Muttered Pete. I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked. Joe continued to quietly laugh. Andy's jaw dropped and he pointed at Pete. "He just called you stupid!" Andy shouted, and I frowned.

"Well that's rude." I said, and crossing my legs and folding my hands in my lap. It genuinely saddened me. I had no idea what I'd done to come across as ignorant, but I knew that it hurt me to hear it from Pete. I looked down at my lap and chewed at the skin of my lips. I heard an obnoxious 'awww' from across the room and then the cushion of the sofa next to me sunk down.

A head was leaned on my shoulder and arms wrapped around me. Jet black hair crept into my peripheral vision and I knew at that point that it was Pete. I heard another string of 'awww's, but it was multiple voices this time. A feigned baby voice came from the man sitting left of me.

"Did I hurt your feelings, 'Tricky?" Pete asked mockingly. I frowned harder, if that were even possible. "It was just a joke. I love you. You're adorable." Pete patted my cheek and the 'awww's from Andy and Joe got louder. I heard Andy whisper something along the lines of 'That's so freakin' gay.', and a snort from Joe. I looked up with worry covering my features. 

"Is Pete intoxicated?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows and keeping my frown. Joe laughed and shook his head, and Andy looked over at Joe with an amused look on his face. "He's high." Joe said, sitting down next to me on the sofa. Andy walked over and sat halfway on top of Pete, because Pete was so small that there was a tiny bit of cushion left where he was sitting. "Am not, I'm like..." Pete took a good three minutes to think about what he was saying, "I'm like, 5'4."

"He's got ya' there, Joe." Andy said. Joe rolled his eyes. "If you're 5'4 that makes Patrick, what, 4'11?" Joe commented, Pete nodding and nuzzling his face in my neck. "Patrick, how tall are you?" Andy asked. I thought it over for a moment. "I go up to the half of the fourth board on my grandmother's door." I said, and Pete began to giggle. I looked at him confusedly and Andy patted his head.

"We don't know how tall your grandma's door is, Pat." Joe said. I nodded. "We'll just say you're at least 4'11." 

Pete hugged me tight and shoved his face into my neck as hard as he could, and Joe shook his head, standing up, and heading towards the short corridor that held our bedspace and restroom. It wasn't long before Andy took Joe's spot on the sofa.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five

Pete's head was laying in my lap for whatever reason. We still hadn't moved from the couch and he looked as if he were nearly asleep. I was subconsciously playing with his inky hair, twisting it in my fingers, running my hand through it, scratching his scalp. His hair was significantly softer than anyone's I'd felt before, and it was shiny and mesmerizing to watch as I messed with it. Pete didn't seem to mind it, because he had been essentially doing the human equivalent of purring from the moment I started.

Andy had since walked out the door, leaving his drumset in our flat. There was no use in hauling it back downstairs because he would be coming over often to play along with Joe and Pete. On that note, Joe had been in the bedroom. I could smell something only described as intoxicatingly disgusting. It smelled bad, but I didn't mind the smell every time it made its way into the living area. 

"You're so cute, Patrick. If you were in the band, so many chicks would be all over you. You'd like, sell our performance, you know?" Mumbled Pete, almost inaudably. I blushed. "I, uh– Thank you." I said, and he grinned. "Don't you like, play guitar?" He asked. I furrowed my eyebrows. "I don't necessarily play, I really just messed around with it at randomized times back in the village. Why?" I replied. He giggled.

Pete moved my hand away from his head and stood up. He walked over to Joe's plug-in guitar, that was still sitting there from earlier that day, and walked back over to the couch. "Play me a song." He said, handing it to me. "I-I've never used a plug-in guitar before, plus I don't really know much at all–" I started, Pete cutting me off. 

"Just play it like it's an acoustic. Doesn't matter how much you know, I wanna hear you. What songs do you know?" 

I blushed harder than I thought I would. "I really only know about half of this one song they would play at the chapel before church began..." I trailed off. Pete giggled at me, and placed the guitar in my lap. "Play it." Said Pete, and I nodded. So, Pete sat down next to me, and I adjusted the guitar in my lap.

I strummed the first chord, it coming out high-pitched but also quiet. I cringed, but kept going. "It sounds better when you're using the amp. Go on, keep it up." Pete encouraged me. I nodded.

I strummed another note hesitantly.

"You can sing along to it if it helps." He whispered. I nodded again and continued to pluck at the strings of the guitar.

"I am blessed, I am blessed..." I sang, voice cracking. Pete laid his head on my shoulder. "Every day that I live, I am blessed..." He closed his eyes and hummed quietly. Out of tune, of course, but he still hummed nonetheless. "When I wake up in the morning, or when I lay my head to rest, I am blessed—" 

I jumped when I heard Joe's voice from the hallway. "That's it, I'm not the lead singer anymore." He said. I blushed even more, and Pete jumped up, clapping. "He has such a pretty voice, doesn't he?" Pete said, smiling wide. Joe nodded and sat down where he had been earlier that day. Pete laid his head back on my shoulder. I swallowed thickly and put the guitar down against the small table in front of the sofa.

"What do you say, Pat? Wanna sing?" He asked. I shrugged. "I'm not sure, what– What are we supposed to be doing?" I replied. Joe got a smile on his face that was bigger than any of the smiles I'd ever seen hhim wearing. Pete giggled beside me. "We're gonna make it big, Pat." Joe started, "We're gonna make records. Go on tours. Meet people."

"We can save peoples' lives!" He said to me. I didn't quite understand how, but I kept listening. "We can be rich! Famous! Everyone's gonna know our names, Pat. Not a household won't talk about us. We can move out of this dump. I won't have to run from the cops and sell weed and coke anymore." Joe rambled on, and I nodded. He spoke again before I could, and I assumed at this point that Pete had fallen asleep due to the soft snores emitting from my side. 

"Even if none of that happens," Joe's voice was a lot quieter this time and he had a more solemn look on his face, "I wanna make music above everything. Music saved my life. I want to see if ours can save others. Andy feels the same way. So does Pete, even though it doesn't seem like it. We can be something for once. Even if it's just something small. I want to make music. I want to live for that music. I want to make a mark." 

I was nonplussed by the intense amount of information being thrown at me. I didn't quite process half of what he had said, but for unknown reasons, I almost started to cry. Not because I was sad, and not because I was happy. Joe didn't scare me or overwhelm me to that point. It just made me feel something. I wasn't familiar with the feeling. It just struck a chord for me. 

"That's beautiful." Was all that came out of my mouth. I had no idea why, I was just compelled to say it. "Thanks, lil' dude." Joe said. I looked down at my hands and picked at my fingernails.

Joe smiled at me in my peripheral vision. "You need to be lead. We can find someone that plays guitar and if we don't, I could teach you how. What do you say, Pat? You up for it?" I shrugged. "I guess so. I apologize in advance if I don't meet your standards." I whispered. Joe slapped my back, and the sound woke Pete from his little nap at my side. 

"You'll exceed them, Patrick."


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six

"Pete?" I called out, picking at a loose thread on my shirt. I heard Pete hum, so I took that as a sign to continue talking. "Have you seen Mikey recently?" I asked. Pete's eyes went big, and his face went blank as it slowly turned red. 

"No." He rushed out. I nodded. "Don't you want to see him?" I asked him, to which he shook his head. "No, no. There's no need for that." Pete told me. I nodded again. "I kind of want to see him again. He was nice to me. Can he come over someday soon?" I asked.

Pete sighed a little but nodded. "Sure." He muttered, standing up off the couch and walking into the kitchen, leaving me on the family room floor. He came back really soon, and handed me an apple before he sat back down on the sofa. "You haven't eaten enough today." Pete said, so I nodded, taking a bite. He went back to writing down words in his notepad and I assumed he had tuned me out of his hearing by then. 

I continued to eat my apple, and pick at my shirt and stare at the floor. There was a thudding against our flat's door, and before I could stand up and do it myself, Pete walked over and opened it. I tried to look past him to see who it was as he talked, but he was blocking my view, and I couldn't understand what they were saying from the distance. 

They talked for a good while, about seven minutes, before he closed the door and walked back over to the couch. He began to write again, and it was quiet before I asked him who it was. He shook his head a bit. "Just a..." He paused as if he were thinking, "Just a salesman. You know, the ones who try and scam you with magazines." He said. I nodded. I trusted Pete.

So with that, I just relaxed. I relaxed to the best of my ability. Pete looked extremely content as he wrote, yet focused all at once. His face was relaxed, but showed so much emotion. Not to mention, I hadn't noticed until then that he had been wearing a shirt with no sleeves. I could see all of the tattoos on his arms.

Pete looked absolutely beautiful in this state. 

I watched him for so long. I had lost track of time and didn't even notice that he was staring back at me until he spoke. "Patrick? What are you doing?" He asked with a laugh. I blushed, and shrugged. "Watching you is fun. It's beautiful when you're so focused." I said. I saw Pete's cheeks go even redder than mine. He opened his mouth to talk but waited a bit as if he were deciding between things to say.

"'Trick, did you ever figure out if you're gay or not?" He asked me. It was an odd question, to ask, and I didn't know what to say. I still didn't quite understand the concept of the word, let alone knew if I fit the description or not. Pete must have seen the blank look on my face, since his eyes went wide and he shook his head at nothing.

"Forget I asked. It was stupid anyways." He said, so I nodded, and looked down.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Pete cleared his throat as he looked up from the notepad he was writing on. He was sitting on the bed, and I was sitting on the floor, Joe nowhere to be seen, therefore his own bed being unoccupied. I looked up at Pete, who only stared back at me for a moment before he spoke. 

"Are you like, a hundred percent sure that you're not gay?" Pete asked me, and I looked at him confusedly. Frankly, I didn't know. I barely knew what it meant to be gay, let alone if I was or wasn't. I swallowed thickly, only shrugging, and Pete nodded. It was quiet for a little longer and then Pete spoke again. 

"Can— Can I help you find out? You know, if you're gay?" Pete asked, myself still staring at him with that confused look on my face. Pete always told me that he loved that look normally, that I looked so cute making it. However, now was definitely not the time for any confusion, at least not to Pete. From what I could tell, the look on Pete's face was far from happy.

Currently, me not being gay was seemingly a problem to him. I didn't know why, but he had been asking so much recently, and looking extremely annoyed afterwards. Especially when I stared back at Pete, unanswering, and my face never shifted from its previous emotion. 

"I-I guess..." I trailed off. Pete smiled. 

Pete patted the bed, so I moved and sat down next to him. "Can I kiss you again?" Pete asked, biting his lip as he looked me in the eye, "Like we did in the woods?" I hesitated, staring at my friend. I would even say he was my best friend, I had a lot of those. Pete was the man with the sock-hat and the olive skin and the pretty tattoos that took me into his home and let me live there. I had to appreciate him to some extent. 

I nodded after what felt like the longest time, and Pete looked slightly taken aback that I was willing to do so. So taken aback that he looked blank for a while. So, when it had gotten into Pete's head that I had actually agreed, he almost spontaneously combusted before he could even put his hand on my cheek. Pete leaned in, myself only half knowing how this went since I had only ever kissed someone once, that being Pete a few months prior. 

When our lips touched Pete's body went limp. He cupped my face in his hands and tilted his head a bit, sighing a little into my mouth. I seemed to be doing fairly well myself. I was moving my lips the same way Pete was, simply copying him. Pete would do something, so I would do it back. Eventually, however, I caught up, so confident in how to do it that I was beginning to move my lips before Pete did. 

Pete pulled away after a little bit, licking his lips and eyeing my face. He seemed mindblown, lips puffy and red and face nearly the same shade as he stared at me. I'm sure I shared the same look. This was not like the woods. This was something that rocked my world and I was definitely quite confused as to what any of this was. 

"I...was... Did you like that?" Pete stuttered, staring me in the face. I nodded slowly. I didn't know why, but it felt amazing, and I wanted more. Before Pete could say anything else, I kissed him again, and he was extremely shocked.

Pete's hands moved from my cheeks to my waist, trailing down farther like the day where he was intoxicated and had me pressed up against the wall. It felt the same as that day, with one small difference. It burned this time. I had no clue what was happening, but Pete's hands made my sides burn and left a dull ache in the pit of my stomach. 

He had pulled away once aagain and kissed the side of my face. Not exactly on my cheek, but on the side of my jaw, underneath my ear. His lips burned too, and I couldn't quite tell if I liked it or not. It felt like a hot iron being pressed to my cheek, but I didn't mind it. It burned like he was holding a flaming twig to my face but at the same time, I didn't want him to pull away. 

Just as he did, however, he buried his face in my neck. I felt the burn of his lips against my collarbones. Just as he grabbed at my shirt, a loud screeching sound went off. 

I jumped a little, and looked over to see Joe slamming his fist on the top of a box that was on the table by his bed. I looked back over, and saw Pete, sleeping in the bed next to me. I slowly realized, that what had happened previously was not true, and simply a dream that was fueled by the very question he had asked me the day prior. 

One thing that I couldn't figure out, was why I was so upset that it had to end.


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter sucks I'm sorry

Joe ruffled my hair when he got out of bed, because he could obviously tell that I was awake; After all, I had shot up and had the most terrified look on my face. 

"You have a bad dream, lil' dude?" He asked, walking over to his dresser and pulling open the top drawer. I furrowed my eyebrows and shook my head, letting the dream sink in. It wasn't that terrible, just shocking and confusing. Joe nodded, and I looked back over at Pete, who was sleeping next to me. He looked pretty bad, as does everyone when sleeping – drooling, pale, and hair messy – but his appearance at the moment didn't bother me. Though, he did look rather ghostly compared to his usual olive skin tone.

Not to mention, he snored. Loudly. I was extremely unsure of how I never woke up from hearing him snoring in my ear. 

After what felt like an eternity of staring at Pete, I looked back over at Joe, who was pulling on a cotton shirt. I watched him for a second, before he turned around and started speaking again. "We're supposed to be recording today. You may not get to though if Pete hasn't been working on teaching you the lyrics yet." Said Joe. I nodded, but I didn't quite know what he meant. Then again, I was tired. It was hard for me to comprehend things while tired. 

Joe walked out of the room, and I took a moment to sit and try my hardest to achieve full consciousness.  When I felt that I had gotten to the acceptable amount of what Pete would call "Awake-ness," I slipped out of bed and was going to follow after Joe. 

When I entered the living area I saw Joe and Andy holding mugs as they sat on our sofa. They were being sneaky, or maybe just quiet as to not wake Pete, but either way, I didn't hear them. Andy looked upset, and Joe looked to be consoling him. He was rubbing the long-haired man's shoulder and saying things to him with a sad look on his face. Andy, however, didn't look sad; He looked furious. He looked as if he had the desire and ability to kill someone at any moment.

When he saw me, he smiled wordlessly as a greeting, then his face reverted back to it's previous upset emotion when he looked at what Joe had taught me was the Television. I smiled at him a little and then sat down on the end of the sofa that no-one was sitting on. I wouldn't dare ask Andy what was wrong, as I didn't want to make him more upset — so, I watched the Television with them, and let them be. If they wanted me to know, they would tell me. 

There was a man on the box speaking, and below him was a blue line with white text over it that read, 'Trump Bans Transgenders from Military'. The man was reading a message given to him, supposedly by the President of the United States. 

"After consultation with my Generals and military experts," The man read, "Please be advised that the United States will not accept or allow transgender individuals to serve in any capacity in the U.S. Military. Our military must be focused on decisive and overwhelming victory, and cannot be burdened with the tremendous medical costs and disruption that transgenders in the military would entail. Thank you."

When Andy heard the man read the message, he grew noticeably angrier. Joe just put his arm around him and hugged him from the side. "It's fucking bullshit!" Andy exclaimed, leaning forward and putting his mug down on the table in front of the sofa. Joe nodded. "I know. I'm sorry, Andy." Joe said, rubbing Andy's shoulder and sighing a little. 

I, as always, was confused, but just watched. Maybe the story would unfold eventually if I just watched them. Or maybe Pete would wake up and I'd forget about it. 

"I mean, maybe you can still serve!" Joe exclaimed reluctantly, "You're not even on 'T' yet, maybe that counts for something—" He couldn't finish what he was saying, because Andy cut him off. "I'm supposed to start it soon." Andy sighed, putting his head in his hands. Joe bit his lip.

It wasn't long until Pete came trudging into the living area, rubbing his eyes and, quite literally, sitting on top of me. He laid his head on my shoulder and closed his eyes as if he were about to fall asleep again. "Stop being gay. I'm sulking over my side of the spectrum." Said Andy, and Pete nodded. "Got a few tweets about it come through on my phone. I'm sorry, Andy." Pete said with a yawn. I still didn't know what was going on, and so I was going to admit that.

"I don't know what any of this means, but I'm sorry too because Andy shouldn't have to be upset. Nobody deserves for anything to make them upset." I said. Andy and Pete laughed a little while Joe nodded his head once. "I'll teach you about it later, 'Trick." Pete told me, patting my shoulder. I nodded. 

There was a long silence before Joe broke it by speaking to Pete. 

"We're recording today. Don't forget."

Pete's eyes went wide and he ruffled his own hair. "Oh yeah, Patrick, we're recording today." Pete repeated, and I nodded. 

"I know, Joe told me," I said. Pete nodded, Joe got up to grab something and Andy just sat there with his head in his hands, long after they'd turned off the television to try and stop him from getting too upset.


End file.
